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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691434">Je veux être aimé (I want to be adored)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kattlupin/pseuds/Kattlupin'>Kattlupin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Art, CMBYN - Freeform, Call Me By Your Name References, Classical Music, Clothes Sharing, Coming Out, First Time, Fluff, France - Freeform, French, French!Remus, Get Together, Guitar, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, Journal, M/M, Movie fic, Piano, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Summer, Summer Love, american!sirius, different language, impressionist art, jily, leather jacket, wolfstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:09:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kattlupin/pseuds/Kattlupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment Sirius Black arrives at the Lupins French Countryside Villa, Remus Lupin’s life is forever changed as he navigates what it means to fall in love for the first time. </p><p>Je veux être aimé (I want to be adored) is heavily inspired and adapted from André Aciman’s Call Me By Your Name</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>347</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelated/gifts">pixelated</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This author requests you leave my work off tiktok</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Remus opens up the final drawer of his bureau and begins to carelessly toss the rumpled clothing that’s stored in there onto the footboard of his bed—well, not his bed anymore. In a matter of minutes it will belong to the interloper, his father’s summer intern—a first year graduate student from America studying art history. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets out a huff in an attempt to blow his tawny curls off of his forehead, though it’s to no avail—the early summer heat has already plastered them to his skin. The next shirt he grabs from the drawer he uses to wipe his brow, then tosses it at Lily who’s on his bed laughing at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Se taire,” he says, giving her an exaggerated disapproving scowl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Toi enfant,” she laughs and tosses the balled up tee shirt back at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He catches it with one hand then grabs the pile of discarded clothes off of the footboard and walks through the adjacent bathroom door to the small storage room turned bedroom that will be Remus’s home for the next six weeks. He shoves his things onto the shelves haphazardly, and is walking back to grab the last of his belongings when he hears the sound of tires rolling up the gravel drive that leads to his family's villa situated in the French countryside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lily quirks up an eyebrow at him and they both rush to the window to look down below. They arrive just in time to see a man step out of the back of a taxi and stretch his long limbs. He’s tall and broad, wearing a black leather jacket despite the heat, dark, tight fitting trousers, heavy boots, and sunglasses situated atop a mane of luxurious black waves that are pulled into a disheveled knot at the nape of his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus turns his head and looks at Lily. “Usurpateur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s cute,” she answers and it feels like she’s teasing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you know?” he laughs back and tries to ignore the heat rising into his cheeks. “Should I tell James that you think the usurpateur is cute?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she says and swats at him, but her smile is bright. “He’ll just be twice as annoying if you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus shrugs and turns his attention back outside, bringing his hands to the windowsill to perch himself up and lean forward to get a better look. The man is standing, shielding his eyes as he takes his first impressions at what will be his home for most of the summer, looking appropriately impressed. The grounds of the villa are immaculate with gardens of flowers, fruits and vegetables, and from where the man stands he can probably get a glimpse of the orchards at the back of the property. From his high up perch, Remus watches him take it all in. He’s seen this wide eyed look of wonderment every summer for all of his eighteen years of life, silently witnessing his father's new chosen applicant arrive each June for a summer abroad program to study under his tutelage. And even for Remus, though this is his home, the view never gets old. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of his father, Lyall’s, distinguished, albeit dynamic and jovial voice, breaks Remus and the man from their reveries as they take in their respective views. “Welcome! Welcome, Sirius! Oh, my! You are much taller than your picture!” Lyall says extending his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus watches as the man shakes it confidently and says with a deep and commanding timber, “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Lupin. Thank you for having me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lyall, please,” he insists, as he waves Remus’s mother, Hope, over then adds, “It’s our pleasure.” Lyall reaches back to grab Hope around her waist as she arrives, wiping her flour covered hands on her apron.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bienvenue,” she greets and Sirius takes her dainty hand between both of his. When he lets go she looks around, then back at her husband. “Where’s Remus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus quickly ducks back inside the window. “I better go,” he says to Lily and they rush out the bedroom door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus, with Lily in tow, descends into the foyer just as the Lupins and Sirius enter through the wide front door. Sirius, deep in conversation with Remus’s father, deposits a worn black leather duffle bag and suitcase onto the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Remus,” Lyall says fondly with sweeping arms and in a tone reserved just for Remus. He gestures Remus over. “Remus, Sirius. Sirius, this is my son, Remus,” he says, his hands still excitedly flourishing while Remus and Sirius formally greet each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius’s grip is strong and sure, and his thumb curls firmly over the back of Remus’s hand. “Hello,” Remus says and offers Sirius a friendly and small smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Sirius says nonchalantly, and Remus feels somewhat stung by his noncommittal tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lily looks at him pointedly as she sneaks past him and gives Hope a kiss on each cheek before she offers all of them a small wave and a near silent, “Au revoir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Au revoir, Lily,” Lyall yells after her as she runs off. He gestures for Sirius to follow him into his studio, leaving Remus and his mother alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Help bring Sirius’s things up to his room, will you?” Hope asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean my room,” Remus says cheekily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She musses up his curls, looking at him adoringy. “Mon, Remus,” she says then kisses his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabs the discarded bags, then runs them upstairs and places them beside the bed. He takes one more glance around the room to make sure he hasn’t left anything and to check that it is presentable for Sirius. After smoothing out the sheets and repositioning the pillows he leaves the room just in time to run into his father showing Sirius upstairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must be exhausted,” Lyall says to Sirius.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius smiles, nods and confirms, “Well, a bit, yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make yourself at home, our house is your house.” He gestures towards Remus who’s standing at the bedroom door. “I’ll have Remus help you get acquainted with your room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lyall,” Lyall corrects again with a friendly clasp to his shoulder, maintaining his enthusiasm and coaxing a laugh out of Sirius. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lyall,” Sirius agrees with a booming and unselfconscious laugh that is infectious, and it stokes something inside of Remus—a rapidly growing warmth and curiosity for Sirius and his apparent confidence. Instantly, Remus wants Sirius to like him. After all, they are going to be sharing space for the bulk of the summer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leads Sirius through the bedroom door and Sirius immediately falls face down upon the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re sharing a bathroom,” Remus starts to explain, turning to point at the door leading to the shared room. “It’s my only way in and out—” He turns back to check and see if Sirius is listening, but Sirius is already asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The following morning Remus is sitting at the patio table with his parents enjoying a café au lait and pulling apart a still warm pain au chocolat freshly baked by his mother. She’s set out a lovely array of her perfectly crafted croissants, fresh picked and sliced fruits off the trees, plates of cheese and meats, and has even gone to the trouble of juicing a bushel of apricots to go along with their breakfast. His father is idly reading the newspaper, occasionally leaning over to show little tidbits to Hope as he goes through it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus takes a final sip of his au lait, places his mug down then makes a fist and rests his cheek against it. His mind quickly wanders to the whereabouts of their house guest. He wonders if he’s lying in bed—he had been asleep still when Remus chanced a glimpse at him before he came down for breakfast. He can still see Sirius’s broad bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheet and the severe cut of Sirius’s shadowed jaw resting against a pillow. He purses his lips together and twists them into a lopsided frown. It seems rather rude that the man is so cavalier about coming down for breakfast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mon Remus, did you see Sirius this morning,” Hope asks him as she refills his mug with coffee and then tops it with steamed milk. Her voice is as gentle as her soft smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts his head off of his fist and looks up at her. “He was asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pauvre homme, after that long day of travel,” she says and ruffles Remus’s curls before she sits again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’ll be here—” Lyall says just as Sirius makes his arrival outside, stretching his long limbs in the sun while his mouth opens up wide in a yawn. “Speak of the devil. Welcome Sirius, come take a seat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, this looks wonderful. I hardly got a chance to eat yesterday.” Sirius strides over and sits beside Remus. He quickly grabs a croissant and begins to pull it apart then shoves half of it into his mouth and moans audibly as he chews, his whole body seemingly seeping deeper into his chair as he swallows.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have another,” Hope offers as she passes him a café au lait while he finishes the croissant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, I know myself,” Sirius begins to explain, as he dishes up some fruit onto a plate along with some meats and cheese. “If I have another, I’ll have three, and then a fourth.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have as much as you like,” Hope says, clearly charmed by him, then offers a glass of juice which he takes and gulps down immediately. “From the orchard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t get anything like this back home,” he laments looking upon the empty glass, and Remus envies the confidence Sirius exudes as he directs his chin in the direction of the pitcher, silently asking if he can have more. Remus jumps from his seat and refills Sirius’s glass for him. “Thanks, buddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus sinks back into his chair, stung by the dismissal that the use of a casual word like ‘buddy’ implies. He grabs another croissant to give himself something to do with his hands and something to look at that isn't Sirius sitting next to him conversing with Remus’s parents—though it isn’t much help. The way that Sirius Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows the second glass of juice is proving to be more than a little bit distracting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a beautiful day,” Lyall says. “Take it to get the lay of the land, get your bearings underneath you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus perks up at this. “I can show you around,” he suggests, perhaps a little too quickly and too loudly. He hopes that he doesn’t get called ‘buddy’ again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent,” Sirius says, but he doesn’t look in Remus’s direction. “Are we far from town?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A short bike ride,” Lyall answers, then turns to look at Remus. “He can use mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bike ride into town is slow going under the heat of the sun—there’s not a cloud in the sky to break it up and Remus longs for a dip in the pool when they return. He slows his bike down so that he can ride beside Sirius instead of lead. “Be a good day to go for a swim,” he suggests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius looks at him over his shoulder and shrugs. “Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus isn’t quite sure what to make of it and he doesn’t understand why it is that he can’t seem to get anything right. He speeds up again, sweat starting to drip off of his brow, and makes the final turn into town with Sirius right behind him. He slows his bike and steps off while it’s still idly gliding and rests it against a rod iron fence when it comes to a stop. Sirius places his directly behind Remus’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So this is town,” Sirius states more than asks as they begin to walk through the square. “What does one do around here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Remus shrugs. “Wait for summer to end.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what do you do in the winter, then? Don’t tell me—wait for summer to begin, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus laughs at this, his cheeks flushing. “Pretty much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius smiles and laughs a laugh as warm as the summer sun. “What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus looks at him thoughtfully. This is his chance to maybe make a decent impression. To show Sirius that he is not some dumb, easily distracted and quick to complain eighteen year old. “I transcribe music. Read books. Swim in the pool. Go out at night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Transcribe music, huh?” Sirius says and Remus notes that his tone seems mildly impressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Music is to me what Impressionist paintings are to my father.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are all you Lupins such artistic intellectuals?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know about that,” Remus says demurely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From what your father has told me through our correspondence it sounds like it’s not just you that takes your music seriously.” Sirius stops walking and places a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Invited to study at the Conservatoire de Paris, that’s no small feat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I guess not,” Remus says, self-conscious underneath both Sirius’s praise and his gaze. He ducks his head and looks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius lets go of Remus’s shoulder then gives it a quick pat. “I’m going to have myself a look around. I’ll see you back at the villa,” he says as he begins walking. He looks over his shoulder at Remus. “Later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later. A word that Remus has never really given much thought to. It has always meant just as it says, later. But now, Sirius has managed to give it new context. When spoken by Sirius, in his confident, dismissive, arrogant way, Remus finds it has a whole new meaning. One that is both charming and confusing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On one hand, Remus wants to believe that ‘later’ is meant to be a casual and friendly, maybe even inviting way for one to imply a promise, or a confirmation, a comfortable easy agreement in seeing each other again in the not so distant future. It could imply a short matter of time between encounters. After all, Sirius had looked so impressed by him when he grasped Remus’s shoulder—when he said what an accomplishment it was for him to be accepted into the Conservatoire.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the self deprecating side of Remus has already managed to twist that into something else. Sirius’s casual use of the word ‘later’ can only be taken to be a brush off. A verbal cue saying you don’t warrant an actual goodbye or a commitment to something more—I’ll just toss you a ‘later’ to be rid of you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus has decided he officially loathes the word now that Sirius has attached new meaning to it. Sirius doesn't even know Remus, how can he already be so quick to dismiss him? And how can he be so quick to already hold Remus’s attention? It seems unfair that the two points can so easily coincide together. It’s only Sirius’s second day here, and already Remus finds himself turned upside down at his existence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus dives directly into the pool after stowing his bicycle and removing his shirt once he returns home from town—hoping that submerging himself in the refreshing water will be enough to shake this complicated dichotomy away from his psyche. Though he’s only managed to twist himself into wet (and therefore more secure) knots over the innocuous word once his head pokes back through the surface of the water. He lets himself float there, the sound of Sirius saying ‘later’ playing on loop in his mind alongside the ghost of the touch that his strong, thick fingered hand left on Remus’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Réveille-toi, Remus,” Lily’s voice breaks through his thoughts. He startles and looks over at her as she sits and dips her feet into the water. “La lune. Don’t tell me your guest has you mooning already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swims towards her side of the pool and rests his forearms on the ledge. “I’m not mooning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes you are, I can see it on your face.” She reaches towards him and presses a finger into the space between his brows. “You’re furrowing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the sun,” he protests and pulls his head away from her finger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the Américain,” she teases and reaches into the water to splash him. “He’s handsome, I get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s nothing,” Remus sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should know better than to lie to me, Remus. I always see right through you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes at her and twists his lips into an exaggerated and playful scowl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like you see through me,” she points out, bringing two fingers to her eyes then flips them to Remus and back again. “Voir à travers moi, you knew I loved James before I did.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you were évident,” Remus laughs and splashes her back for emphasis. “And besides, I don’t love Sirius, how can I? I just met the man. I find him to be quite rude to be honest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Impoli Américain,” she laughs. “They’re all the same. Though this one is quite handsome, élégant. And I know you think so too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thinking of the casual way Sirius had said ‘later’, Remus nonchalantly shrugs. “Hmm,” he hums and pulls himself out of the water to sit beside her. “It doesn’t matter,” he says just as Sirius makes an appearance in the distance. Remus catches him glancing in the direction of the two of them sitting on the pool's edge and Remus blushes. “He probably isn’t even like me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lily looks over her shoulder at him. “You never know what could happen, Remus. James said the same about me.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With the weekend over and everyone seemingly adjusted to the presence of Sirius in the house, Monday morning begins with work to be done. Remus helps his mother bring the dishes in from breakfast then runs back up to his makeshift bedroom to grab his notes and sheet music to work on transcribing the piece of Bach he’s been toiling over—making it more suitable for an acoustic guitar piece to be played alongside an accompanying piano.</p><p>He sets himself up to work at the corner table out of the way, but still in the presence of his father and Sirius inside of Lyall’s studio. They’re beginning the task of organizing Lyall’s research, getting it prepped and matched with slides and prints to make the construction of his next text on the evolution of Impressionism into Post-Impressionism artistic movements. Remus sits in wait, only half paying attention to his music as he listens for the setting of his father’s familiar trap. </p><p>His mother musses his curls and looks over his shoulder, taking a glance at what it is he’s working on, then offers him a glass of fresh squeezed juice off the tray she came in with. He takes it from her, “Merci,” and has a sip while he watches her place the tray down on the desk before sitting opposite of him at the table and giving him a little wink.</p><p>“Sirius, could you place this slide of Seurat’s <em> Bathers at Asnières </em> in with the Post-Impressionists pile please,” Lyall asks as he casually holds the slide out to Sirius. </p><p>Remus drops his head forward to pretend to look at his linesheets, his curls flopping towards his brows. He looks beneath his long lashes to covertly make eye contact with his mother and the two of them share a tight lipped smile. </p><p>“I don’t mean to overstep here Professor,” Sirius begins and Remus turns his attention to Sirius, curious if he’ll get this right. He’s already off to a good start having caught the mistake. “Though Seurat doesn’t wholly fit in with the likes of Monet and Renoir, or even Degas or Mary Casset,” Sirius pauses, turns, and looks at Hope, the lone woman in the room at the mention of the artist Mary. Remus watches her smile and nod at Sirius out of the corner of his eye before Sirius turns his attention back to Lyall and continues, his hands moving and gesturing confidently as he talks. “He doesn’t qualify as a Post-Impressionist either. He more or less bridges the gap between the two—Pointillism working as a sort of Neo-Impressionism, not defined by the quick brush strokes in his realistic landscapes like the Impressionists but also not moving towards the use of bright and contrasting colors in the heavy strokes and harder lines of the Post-Impressionists like Gaugin, Toulouse-Lautrec, and even Van Gogh,” he says the last name with a roll of his eyes, getting a laugh in agreement from everybody in the room. “It would perhaps be more accurate to set him aside with Signac or Pissarro.” </p><p>Sirius grabs a glass of the juice, and Remus watches him swallow it all down in three consecutive gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing enticingly. He puts the glass down and seems to realize the silence that has befallen the room with the end of his monologue. He looks over at Lyall, and Remus notices the color has drained a bit from his face, as if he’s questioning himself.</p><p>“Flying colors,” Lyall laughs, pressing his hands together in a mock prayer. </p><p>Remus and Hope burst out into laughter, unable to hold it in anymore. It draws Sirius to look in their direction.</p><p>“He does this every year,” Remus says, taking mercy on Sirius. </p><p>Sirius smiles at him warmly, the color coming back to his cheeks as he refills his glass with more juice, then swallows it all down.</p><p>______</p><p>“I’m going to town,” Sirius announces as everyone finishes their lunch.</p><p>Remus looks up at Sirius sitting beside him at his declaration and begins to rise out of his chair as Sirius places his cloth napkin down onto the table. “I need to go to town too,” Remus says, then quickly adds as if it’s an afterthought, “There’s a book on seventeenth century poetry I want at the bookstore.”</p><p>Sirius quirks up an elegant and naturally shapely black eyebrow at him, and Remus thinks he sees a vague hint of a smile run across Sirius’s face, sharpening his cheekbones, as he turns to look at Lyall. “Do you need anything?”</p><p>“Ahhh, yes. If you could please check in with the post, the University is forwarding more slides for our work. Remus can show you where it is.”</p><p>Remus looks over towards Sirius and nods his head. The look on Sirius’s face is unreadable. The little hint of a smile Remus thought he saw there mere moments ago is gone and Remus finds himself whirling in his mind at the whiplash of the sudden change again as they make their way to the storage shed to pull the bicycles out. He half expects Sirius to shrug him off with a ‘later’ and an insistence on going to town himself.</p><p>Remus tries to break the unpinpointable tension that has befallen the two. “So what do you need from town?”</p><p>“Just going to see someone,” Sirius states as if he’s bored as he pulls Remus’s bike out and hands it to him, then steps in to grab Lyall’s for himself.</p><p>Remus furrows his brow. <em> Who could he possibly have to see, he’s only been here for three days? </em>But he’s afraid to voice the question aloud, instead he chews on his bottom lip.</p><p>“So, seventeenth century poetry,” Sirius teases and pats Remus on the shoulder, his fingers lingering for an extra beat before he shuts the door to the shed.</p><p>Remus looks from Sirius’s hand to his eyes, they’re light and full of teasing, as if he thinks he’s caught Remus in a lie. Which in a way he has, but also he hasn’t. There is a book that Remus needs, one that contains odes written in the same rhythm and tempo as the Bach he’s currently transcribing—he’s looking to prove their correlation, that one influences the other and back again. However, the lie lies in that he already owns it, it’s just that his original copy is currently in the possession of Lily who insisted on reading it in an effort to be able to understand what it is that causes Remus to always have his head down with his curls flopped forward, working, and looking over pages of notes and notations. She may be studying literature in the fall, but his ear and eye for musical and rhythmic patterns is staggering for most to comprehend—though if anyone outside of his parents can appreciate it, it’s her. </p><p>“It goes along with what I’m transcribing,” he explains, self-conscious under Sirius’s grey eyed gaze and his teasing.</p><p>“Of course it does,” Sirius laughs and gets on his bike, the down pressure of his foot on the peddle propelling him forward. </p><p>Remus rushes to hop onto his bike to close the growing gap between them. “Just like with artists,” he yells up to Sirius, then adds as he catches up to him, “You know, how Dalí and Lorca influenced and worked with each other.”</p><p>“So are you trying to prove that Bach carried on a semi-secret affair with his best poet friend as well?”</p><p>Remus blushes furiously at the thought and just now realizes what he had inadvertently implied. He looks over at Sirius, holding the handlebars steady to not lose his balance. The grin that has spread across Sirius’s face is both proud and mischievous, as if he’s challenging, testing Remus—talking in veiled code, sending a signal that Remus desperately wants to reply properly back to. He chooses his response carefully. “Bach doesn’t really seem the type, he’s no George Frideric Handel.”</p><p>“Then perhaps you should make the correlation there,” Sirius suggests and picks up his speed to move ahead of Remus. </p><p>Remus tries to keep up, but always seems to remain at least a bicycle length behind Sirius the entire ride—watching his long, strong legs and back effortlessly propel him away from Remus just as Remus thinks he is finally getting somewhere with him. </p><p>When they pull into town, Remus is breathless from trying to keep up. All he can do is mildly wave and look stunned at Sirius when he leaves him by the bookshop with a nonchalantly uttered, “Later.”</p><p>_____</p><p>“The Américain, is looking good out there,” Lily points out to Remus as they sit beside each other watching the hastily thrown together volleyball game commence in the yard beside the pool. “Marlene claims she was out with him last night,” Lily laughs and rolls her eyes, her shoulder bumping Remus’s. “L'exagérateur.”</p><p>“She’s pretty enough. You don’t believe her?” Remus questions timidly and sighs as he watches the same Marlene in question jump and  wrap her arms around Sirius after she manages to score a point for the two of them as they play against Lily’s boyfriend James and his best friend Peter. Sirius picks her up with little effort, the two of them laughing jovially in their triumph, then places her back down. </p><p>Sirius glances in Remus’s direction, appearing to regard him thoughtfully, then looks back toward the game. “Ok, whose serve?” he asks loudly and shrugs away from Marlene as she tries to get his attention again.</p><p>Remus bends his knees into his chest and bites at his lower lip. </p><p>“Don’t pout,” Lily scolds. “You’re mooning, la lune.”</p><p>“I’m not pouting.”</p><p>“Oh but you are,” she teases. “And it’s just Marlene, she’ll be onto someone else later.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Remus sighs. “Like I said, we don’t even know if he’s like me.”</p><p>Lily shrugs. “Well, he’s more fun than last years at least.” She gestures towards Sirius who is serving the ball—his red swim shorts straining against his strong, thick thighs as he jumps and brings his long, muscular arm to swing high to connect with the ball and send it soaring over the net. “Look how smooth he is, the Américain.”</p><p>Remus rises to his feet in annoyance and leaves Lily as he walks to the poolside table to grab a glass of water laid out there by his mother at the start of the game. He quickly drinks it, his eyes on the court, or more accurately, Sirius, the whole time. The way his limbs move gracefully with precision purpose combined with the height he gets with his jumps is mesmerizing. Almost as mesmerizing as the way his billowy shirt simultaneously clings and floats from his torso. It moves like the wind, making him appear to be light while also strong and surefooted, as he hits the final spike over the net to put the match to a close.</p><p>Lily lets out a series of whoops and hollers and little playful jeers at James and Peter as they lose the match, while Remus watches Sirius and Marlene celebrate their victory. </p><p>“Again,” Remus can see more than hear Marlene say flirtily over her shoulder at Sirius.</p><p>Sirius nods but holds up a finger and strides over to where Remus is standing. He grabs a glass of water, closes his eyes and swallows it down in three large gulps, as if he knows that Remus is watching, as if it is some sort of a show where Remus is the only one with a ticket. He places the glass down, then grabs at Remus’s shoulders, catching him off guard. Remus shrugs away and immediately regrets it.</p><p>“You’re too tense,” Sirius states sensibly, then places both of his hands on Remus’s shoulders again, his fingers curling forward over Remus’s barrow frame. “Here, let me make it better.” He begins squeezing and kneading at Remus’s muscles, sliding his fingers, palms, and the heels of his hands back and forth from collarbone to scapula and around and back again in slow, deep pressured movements. “Relax.”</p><p>“I am relaxing,” Remus protests. </p><p>“You’re stiff as a board, practically made of knots,” Sirius argues and briefly takes a hand off of Remus to gesture at Lily, catching her attention. “Tell him he should relax more. He’s too tense, too serious.”</p><p>“You should relax more,” Lily teases and pointedly winks at him. “Monsieur sérieux.”</p><p>“See, she agrees,” Sirius says with a final pat on Remus’s back before he goes running back to start a new game, picking up Marlene and carrying her to the other side of the net in the process. </p><p>_____</p><p>“Mon Remus,” Hope says when Remus and Lily enter the villa after the volleyball game has finished. She kisses him on both cheeks then turns and does the same to Lily before she asks, “Will you be joining us for dinner?” </p><p>“Oui, if it’s not too much trouble?”</p><p>“Never for you dear,” she says then turns back to Remus. “And what about Sirius? Will he be home tonight?”</p><p>“Who knows,” Remus shrugs.</p><p>“C'est sa décision,” she waves her arms off like it’s no matter whether he shows or not, and, truly, it doesn’t. </p><p>It never mattered with any of Lyall’s other interns. Why is Sirius any different? Why should Remus feel so slighted by his absence? It truly is none of his concern, and yet, he finds himself wholly concerned, annoyed and stung whenever Sirius brushes him or any of them off in any way. </p><p>Lily bumps his shoulder and gives him a knowing look when Hope turns to go back to the kitchen to finish the preparations for tonight's dinner. “La lune.”</p><p>“Se taire,” Remus lightly scolds and shushes her with a finger to her lips. </p><p>“Do you think she doesn’t know?”</p><p>“There’s nothing for her to not know.”</p><p>“Then why do you shush me? You know I am right.”</p><p>“You’re not right about anything,” Remus says and begins to follow his mother into the kitchen, wanting to help her in the preparations for dinner. </p><p>“Deny it all you want, Remus, but you know I am right,” she playfully shouts after him and quickly follows behind. “La lune and la star.”</p><p>Remus stops in his tracks. “I am not the moon and he is no star.”</p><p>“Oh but he is, the Américain star,” she exaggerates.</p><p>“Do you want me to rescind your dinner invitation?” he asks her, placing his hands on his hips.</p><p>“Your mother would never allow.”</p><p>“I’ll gladly tell her you had to go home, or that James is calling, pleading for your presence,” Remus laughs.</p><p>“You would never,” she says and wraps her arms around him. And she’s right. Lily is, after all, Remus’s best and longest friend; she’s the only person who knows all of his secrets, including the biggest one of them all. </p><p>He kisses her cheeks. “Come on, lets go help ma mère.”</p><p>Hope has already managed to cook and put together an impressive spread of food. It’s a beautiful night—still warm and clear with a light breeze—perfect for dinner in the orchard at the table nestled amongst the trees. Remus and Lily help Hope carry the food outside, then situate themselves while she runs back to ring the loud bell that sounds across the entire property to signify dinner.</p><p>Remus’s dad is the next to arrive with Hope on his arm, followed by their closest neighbors, Minerva McGonagall and her longtime friend, Pomona Sprout. Lyall and Hope kiss them both on their cheeks and Lyall gestures for everyone to sit and make themselves at home. The empty plate that should have Sirius sitting before it sits glaringly as if there is a spotlight upon it to Remus. </p><p>Lyall pops open a bottle of champagne and begins pouring it into everyone's glasses. And just like the plate, Sirius’s empty glass seems to be taunting Remus—the moon and the stars reflecting off of it, sparkling and mocking Remus and his longing to have Sirius sitting beside him. </p><p>“Where’s Sirius?” Lyall asks and Remus perks up, happy that someone else is curious of his whereabouts. </p><p>Hope checks her watch. “It’s eight, looks like he has chosen not to come,” she says casually. “Garçon occupé”</p><p>“Busy boy perhaps,” Remus says like it doesn’t bother him as everybody begins to place food on their plates. He takes a sip of his champagne and feels emboldened by the comfortable company and surroundings. “Don’t you think it’s rude when he says ‘Later’? Arrogant?”</p><p>“I don’t think he’s arrogant,” Lyall says thoughtfully. “I think Sirius is shy.”</p><p>“Shy,” Remus says and considers. Nothing about Sirius has given Remus the impression that he’s shy. But then again, Sirius hasn’t really given much of an impression of anything other than being just out of reach and totally aloof to Remus, and perhaps that is by design. It leaves Remus feeling a bit annoyed. “You watch, this is how he’ll say goodbye to us when the time comes.” Remus sits up a little taller in his chair and attempts to puff up his thin chest in a mock imitation of Sirius. He clears his throat and lifts up a hand giving a nonchalantly and a heavy flick of his wrist as a wave as he speaks, “‘Later’ he’ll say with his gruff and deepest voice.”</p><p>Everyone laughs lightly, humoring Remus in his annoyance and Hope reaches her hand across the table to grab onto one of his. “Meanwhile,” she says, “we’ll have to put up with him for six long weeks. Won’t we?” </p><p>“I’m telling you, he’s just shy,” Lyall reiterates. “You’ll grow to like him, Remus.” </p><p>“But what if I grow to hate him?”</p><p>“You won’t, mon Remus,” Hope says softly and gives his hand another gentle squeeze.</p><p>_____</p><p>After dinner, Lyall has gathered all the guests into the living room for coffee and more drinks and conversation, all of them getting more lively as the night continues. “Remus,” he says in his typical jovial manner. “Play something for us!”</p><p>“Je ne veux pas,” Remus protests.</p><p>“No, please Remus,” Hope asks. “We always love to hear you play.”</p><p>“You hear me play everyday,” Remus laughs. “That’s all I do is play everyday.”</p><p>“And brood,” Lily interjects, earning a laugh from the rest of the room.</p><p>Remus turns and scowls at her but it just makes her laugh harder.</p><p>“Fine, I’ll play,” he says and rises from his seat. He walks to the scuffed and worn, yet perfectly tuned grand piano that he grew up playing and sits at the bench. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, then sets his fingers onto the black and white keys. They bounce, skim, and fold over each other gracefully as he glides through a lively melody without the use of any sheet music to guide him. </p><p>He looks about the room as he plays. Both Hope and Lyall look as proud as they always do whenever he’s filling a room with his notes, Lily smiles and winks at him, and Minerva and Pomona are tapping their feet along to the melody. He can see a shadow moving like a ghost in the hall right in the peripheral of his eyeline. It’s tall and broad, the matching form of their house guest.</p><p>Remus begins to slow his fingers and move into something softer and more melancholic, making a seamless transition that everyone seems to enjoy, and the room takes on a more dreamlike atmosphere. Remus can still see the shadow outside the room as if it has frozen in time. He wonders if Sirius is just planning on remaining out there or if he will make an appearance. </p><p>Finally the shadow begins to move and Sirius comes into view, standing just on the other side of the room's entrance, not fully joining. He looks over his shoulder and gazes into the room, his eyes only finding Remus. And Remus, confident and in his element from behind the keys of a piano, smiles at him, then traps his bottom lip between his teeth.</p><p>Sirius appears to flush from across the room and it stirs something deep within Remus’s belly. They share a moment, their eyes locked on each other until Sirius suddenly turns the corner and heads up the stairs without stepping in and offering anyone even a hello. </p><p>Remus begins to wrap up his piece, and feigns exhaustion, taking an exaggerated yawn and stretching his arms above his head. Lily, always the clever one, catches the clue. </p><p>“I think I’d better head home,” she says and rises from her seat. She walks to Hope first, places a kiss on each of her cheeks and thanks her for dinner, then heads to Remus and kisses him lightly, whispering as she does, “La lune and la star.”</p><p>“There is no moon and star,” he whispers back, but the image of Sirius’s faint blush plays in his head. Perhaps she is right.</p><p>After Lily leaves, Remus says his goodbyes and goodnights as well, wishing everyone a “Bonne nuit,” as he exits the living room and hurries upstairs, hoping to catch Sirius awake in his bedroom or perhaps enjoying a cigarette out on the balcony that lines the second floor, easily accessible from both of their rooms large windows. </p><p>But when he peeks through the door of their shared bath he finds Sirius, naked from the waist up already asleep in his bed, the blanket barely covering him. Remus, disappointed, having thought that the two had maybe shared a moment—that signals had been exchanged—gently closes the door, brushes his teeth and dejectedly heads to bed with the image of Sirius’s bareback and shoulders playing in his mind. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Remus wakes the next day still thinking about Sirius lying near naked in bed—the planes of Sirius’s neck, back and shoulders dancing across his mind from the night before. He rolls over on his bed to lie on his back and kicks the sheets off of him in an attempt to stave off the morning heat streaming in through the window. He’s only in his briefs, yet his body is still hot and sticky from the summer humidity rising with the sun, making him all the more uncomfortable—and working as an easier thing to blame for his discomfort than his hardening cock straining within the confines of his briefs as he keeps replaying the image of Sirius in the room next door over and over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks towards the door that separates them and sees nothing and hears nothing. His right hand sides down the inside of his shorts and he languidly begins to touch himself. Slowly, taking his time, all the while keeping the visual of Sirius and his broad back, his long legs, his toned chest and abs, his pink lips against his alabaster skin, his long wild hair vivid in his mind. Remus brings his free hand to his own hair and gives it a gentle tug, imagining that it is Sirius doing the tugging. His mouth falls open just wide enough that if Sirius were here he could slide his cock, or maybe just his fingers inside while Remus continues to work himself over.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where he gets these ideas from he doesn’t know. It’s not as if he is working off of any practical experience. In his eighteen plus years of life the only other gay men he’s come across have been in his reading. And even at that, it was always so heavily coded. It wasn’t until now, having met Sirius Black, did he really understand what all of that coding was about. He wonders if he’s doing it right. He wonders even more if he’s reading Sirius correctly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moves the fabric out of the way and begins to pick up the pace with his fist around his cock. He’s breathing heavy, mouth still wide open and feeling inexplicably empty. He finishes with a heavy, breath filled sigh just as he hears footsteps outside his door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus quickly rolls onto his side, his back facing the door, and tucks himself back into his briefs, then hastily wipes his sticky hand onto the sheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Sirius’s deep voice says from behind him. Remus looks over his shoulder at him and tries to put on a calm facade despite the summer heat, sweat, and post orgasm blush that has spread across his chest, neck, and freckled cheeks. The sight of Sirius standing shirtless in just his swim trunks is making that facade near impossible to maintain. “Want to go for a swim?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just the two of us?” Remus asks and rolls back onto his back, surprised at this sudden change in Sirius’s attitude towards him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, just the two of us,” Sirius laughs and extends out his hand for Remus to take.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus hesitates. He looks at the hand offered to him then lets his eyes roam up Sirius’s wrist, his forearm, his elbow, his bicep, and shoulder, up his neck, across his jawline, over his wide cheek, then up to his eyes. They have their usual sparkle but they are also slightly hooded with sleep not yet sloughed from his being. There’s warmth behind them, though it is well hidden, just a little glimmer of the shy expression that he wore on his face the night before as he watched Remus play the piano. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus reaches and grabs his hand, it’s warm and slightly roughened in the way that all artists’ hands are—worn slightly down by their chosen medium, leaving a bit of themselves in everything that they touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius keeps his eyes locked on Remus’s in a deliberate manner with his chin jutted forward as he pulls Remus to his feet, and Remus suddenly remembers that he is wearing nothing but his slightly sticky briefs. With his free hand he scrambles for the sheets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I need… to change,” Remus stammers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you downstairs,” Sirius says then holds Remus’s hand for a beat longer before he releases it and leaves the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius is already in the pool by the time Remus makes it downstairs and outside. His limbs are long and strong as he kicks and strokes and cuts through the water with a precision that is mesmerizing to behold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus keeps an eye on him as he places his towel and journal of sheet music along with a pen onto the table beside the pool. He takes a seat at one of the chairs, opting to watch Sirius unnoticed for a little longer before he enters the pool as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bonjour, Remus,” his mother says softly from behind him. She places a gentle kiss into his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up at her. “Bonjour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As-tu faim?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he says and shakes his head. “I’ll come in and grab some food in a bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hums and smiles at him warmly, then musses his hair and places a gentle kiss onto his forehead before she turns and heads to the garden—her pride and joy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> art—with her basket to harvest the ripe fruits and vegetables for the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus watches her go, lamenting how much he’ll miss her and her gentle ways when he heads to Paris in the fall. It occurs to him now that he’s being lined up for a series of goodbyes and changes that he’s not sure he’s ready for. All of it seems so daunting and yet so exciting. Similar to the stir that Sirius has caused in his belly. He dreads the day that Sirius will leave them, yet he also wishes it would come sooner. That he could leave before this desire that Remus has for him can burrow deeper inside of him and therefore be harder to extricate when the time comes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remus, what are you doing?” Sirius asks and breaks Remus from his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reading my music,” Remus says and grabs his journal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No you’re not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Remus says and rolls his eyes before focusing his attention onto Sirius, then pointedly adds, “I’m thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About?” Sirius prods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus rises from his seat and says, “That’s private,” just before he dives into the pool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he surfaces, Sirius is looking at him thoughtfully, maybe even expectantly, like the cool water washing over Remus is going to peel away his defenses and expose his secrets as well. Remus remains silent and swims towards where Sirius is idly treading water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re not going to tell me,” Sirius says incredulously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’m not going to tell you,” Remus reiterates. He may be drawn to Sirius, but that doesn’t mean that Sirius is entitled to Remus’s thoughts and feelings—not without first giving Remus some of his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Sirius hums and quirks his face into a smirk, then flips and submerges himself fully into the water and swims to the pool's edge. He grabs the side with his wide hands and slowly presses himself up and out of the pool, the skin of his back glittering with sun reflecting off the running beads of water that glide off of his body to land back into the pool. When he kicks his leg up to place his foot on the ledge, Remus gets a full glimpse of Sirius’s corded, muscular thigh, his swimsuit having hiked up into his hip crease. Remus sinks himself deep back into the water.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Something had shifted between Remus and Sirius the night that Sirius had briefly watched Remus play the piano, that much Remus knows. Sirius has softened to him, has made an effort to engage more, to be around, and Remus likes it. He likes basking in the newfound attention that Sirius pays him—even though it’s only dolled out minimally, and Remus never knows when it’s going to be suddenly taken away just to be sprinkled back in at a later moment. Sirius has managed to keep him constantly on his toes, looking for clues as to what he can expect at each moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like today, Sirius lounges by the pool, his hair pulled back in a hastily balled up knot held in place with a black elastic. This haphazard knot usually brings with it a more playful and flirtatious Sirius, one that Remus finds the most ease around. He can joke and flirt back and let his eyes linger a little longer, and this version of Sirius doesn’t seem to mind. Though if Sirius pulls that knot down and finger combs his hair into a more polished low ponytail, Remus has taken that to mean joking is over and Sirius is about to put his head down and get to work and is no longer willing to indulge Remus with any kind of attention that isn’t obvious indifference. And when he wears it down, loose, and long—carelessly sexy—Remus has no idea what he’s in for, but it’s exciting all the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So for now Remus will let himself relax and be completely at ease while Sirius taps his foot along in perfect time to a non-existent beat as Remus strums his latest transcribed interpretation on his guitar. He’s not even really paying that much attention to what he’s playing, just letting his left hand work the fingerboard while his right strums away—the chords and patterns all so familiar that Remus doesn’t ever have to think while he plays. His mind can go clear and he can just be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Similar to how Sirius is letting his hands move through the motions as he sketches the orchards that line the property and adds in the details of Lily and James helping Hope harvest the ripe fruit from the peach trees. Remus watches the way Sirius’s hand moves, a combination of quick, carefree flicks of his pencil and the occasional slowly made hard line—a visual representation of the enigma that is Sirius, flitting between carefree, flowing, and soft, to hard rooted and deliberate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It strikes Remus how nice it is that they can do this. That they can sit together in amicable silence and lose themselves in their talents beside each other. Remus wonders if this is how Dali and Lorca lived, or Tuke and Wilde, or Corelli and Handel—working side by side and silently wondering if what they thought was going on was real or not. Does Sirius feel the same way about Remus that Remus feels about him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Play that again,” Sirius says, not looking up from his sketches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Play what again?” Remus asks, confused and somewhat dazed as his train of thought is broken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius puts his pencil down and looks at Remus. “What you just played, it was different from before.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus stops strumming and looks at Sirius thoughtfully. “I’ve been playing the same thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you changed it. Play it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus drops his chin towards his chest and lets his curls flop forward over his brows, then begins strumming again, curious as to how it is that Sirius even picked up that he subtly changed the melody. It’s something Remus does without even thinking as if his thoughts, moods and true feelings come out in the way his fingers move across the strings of the guitar or the keys when he is playing the piano. The music saying what he can’t voice—though the changes are always as small as what his expressions would be if he was speaking. He’s not like Sirius or even his father, both using booming voices and wild gestures to get their points across. Remus is more like his mother—quieter, gentler, waiting for someone else to pull whatever it is he needs to say out of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You changed it again,” Sirius laughs and shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you have a way that you preferred? I can play it however you like,” Remus says, hoping to find a way to please Sirius. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius pulls his hair out of its knot and shakes it out with his fingers, all the while smiling at Remus and gazing at him like he’s a puzzle to be solved. “I want you to play it in whatever way makes you feel happiest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s easy enough for Remus to do. He keeps his eyes averted from Sirius, but lets his mind focus on him and his fingers move of their own accord, speaking for him and saying through melody that being here with Sirius—though Sirius does not know it—is what makes Remus feel free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The days move slowly at the villa, a quiet cocoon that seems to incubate comfort and creation. Remus has gotten so much done in preparation for beginning his advanced studies in the fall, and Sirius and Lyall have been moving through their work at record speed—the construction of Lyall’s latest text coming along smoothly, as well as Sirius’s dissertation and his accompanying canvases and sketches. At the villa, Remus can pretend that it is just them—that the outside world is just that, outside, inconsequential to him or Sirius. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the starkness of that change between what life is like at the villa and what it is like everywhere else is glaringly obvious to him now as he sits with Lily, James, and Peter at the town's discothèque. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits with his head propped up by his hand, his elbow on the table, his lips in a pout, his brows furrowed but his eyes soft as they focus in on Sirius across the room with his arms wrapped around Marlene as they sway side to side with their legs slotted between one another. They fit so nicely together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Il est tellement chanceux,” Peter whispers into Remus’s ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure it’s his luck that has anything to do with it,” Remus says dejectedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter claps a hand onto Remus’s shoulder. “Men like us have never stood a chance with Marlene.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus laughs bitterly at the irony of Peter’s misguided statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vous pourriez aussi demander une danse,” Lily interjects as she rises from her seat at the table arm in arm with James.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not asking anybody for a dance,” Remus says exasperated and playfully swats at her. She dodges it and laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! Hands off, Lupin, this is my girl.” James spins Lily in the other direction as she laughs gleefully. “You’re already stealing her from me when you both go to Paris at the end of the summer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As if I won’t see you every weekend,” Remus scoffs. “You probably have a permanent first class seat lined up on the Thalys for every Friday after your family's vineyard closes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James stands a little taller. “You know me too well, Lupin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, James,” Lily says tugging at him. “Dance with me. Leave these two to lick their wounds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s wounded,” Peter protests after her and rises from his seat. “There’s plenty of girls here for me. Come on, Remus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus brushes him off. “No, you go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter gives him one last little shrug before he steps onto the dance floor and grabs the nearest girl who takes his hand and gives her a twirl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus grabs his drink and takes a long deep sip, his eyes trained on Sirius across the room. He’s thinking that it’s perhaps time for him to leave, that he can’t take any more of this. He thought he’d come so far. He thought he’d read it right. He’d thought that there was something deeper brewing between him and Sirius. And now he’s met with the cold, harsh sting of reality. A reality that can break his heart when it has no business doing so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s rising from his seat to leave just as the music begins to change, going from a slow ballad and moving into the quicker, more synthetic notes of Depeche Mode's </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never Let Me Down Again. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s as if the music is mocking him—for if he could just get a taste of what it would be like to be with Sirius fully, he’d willingly let Sirius let him down time and time again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chances one last glance at Sirius and finds him staring at him over Marlene’s shoulder. Sirius shrugs himself away from her and glides and dances more towards the middle of the dance floor. Remus places his glass back onto the table and lets the rhythm of the music and the rhythm of his heart's desire for Sirius carry him forward. They dance around each other, never quite touching, yet Remus still feels defiled by him in all the best ways.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Remus rolls over in his bed as the morning sun begins to stream in through his large windows. He’s tired, having hardly slept the night before with his mind and body warring over the duality of the events of the evening—flipping between the visual of Sirius dancing with Marlene and the feeling of Sirius dancing in close proximity to himself. He wonders which of these is more accurate. Should he trust his eyes or his heart to tell him the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hope has always said to follow his heart. “Suivre ton cœur, Remus.” But does that still apply in the matters of who one does and does not fall in love with? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, it’s his heart that is winning the debate, willing him to wake up and get out of bed, to go find and see Sirius and maybe get some sort of an answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rises and quickly throws himself together for the day, putting on a pair of tighter fitting khaki shorts and a loose fitting short sleeved button down—a weak imitation of the billowing shirt that Sirius wore while playing volleyball, making him appear so carefree and in control of where the wind blows him. Remus wishes for that for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, Remus!” Lyall calls out as Remus descends the stairs. “Come, come. We’re headed out!” He gestures Remus to him and places an arm around his shoulders as Remus arrives at his side. He looks at Remus over his shoulder mischievously. “They’ve arrived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Tuke’s for the exhibit?” Remus questions excitedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the Toulouse-Lautrec,” Lyall confirms. “Grab something to eat from the kitchen and meet us by the car.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus can’t help but beam as he runs away from his father to grab a bite to eat, eager to get going and be there for the unveiling of the pieces that Lyall and his team have chosen to exhibit at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Tours to go along with the launch of his next book. An evening of art and words and an all around celebration of his father for the work that he does in studying and preserving and bringing art to the masses instead of the few.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one else has made it to the car yet when Remus steps outside with a half eaten croissant in one hand and a ripe peach in the other. He quickly finishes his hastily grabbed breakfast in the shade underneath the tree beside the car and he’s sucking the peach juice off of his fingers when Sirius—his hair down and wild—arrives with Marlene walking beside him. Remus’s heart sinks. His eyes are what are speaking the truth to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chews on his thumb as he watches them say goodbye with an extended hug and a kiss to each cheek, Marlene blushing as she walks away, though Remus notes that Sirius doesn’t give her a second glance. Instead his eyes are soft and focused on Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused and trying to decipher the mixed signals, Remus narrows his eyes at Sirius as he pulls his thumb from between his lips then says, “She seems to like you a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius just shrugs and opens up the car door to slide into the back seat. Remus clambers in after him, unable to resist the temptation of pressing his thigh against Sirius’s once he’s seated, his heart curious as to how Sirius will respond. Sirius hesitates, then moves his thigh to the side creating a small gap between the two of them. Remus’s heart sinks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath and sighs. “She’s good friends with Lily, everyone around here goes crazy for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius turns and pointedly looks at Remus. “Are you trying to get me to like her,” he says harshly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you already did,” Remus says and shrinks off to the side of his seat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you thought wrong,” Sirius corrects, bringing his hands to his hair and pulling it back into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck. He turns to look forward away from Remus, and Remus’s heart stops when he feels Sirius’s thigh press against his again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus hangs back with his mother at the museum while Lyall, Sirius, and the museum's curators work at opening the paintings from the crates that they were shipped in. It’s hard, tedious work, but with each crate comes a new masterpiece, something beautiful to behold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they open the first of the Henry Scott Tuke’s—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lovers of the Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span>—Remus can’t stop staring. The two men on a beach, clearly conversing and totally at ease with themselves and their nakedness together, call to Remus. He longs for that and wishes for that level of comfort and ease, that adoration of another man without the care of what others may think. How did Tuke get away with this almost eighty years ago?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next one to be unveiled—</span>
  <em>
    <span>A Holiday</span>
  </em>
  <span>—is a young man alone, naked and perched on a rock, his back to the artist. Though you can’t see his face, you can feel his loneliness, his yearning as he looks out to sea at two other men swimming together in the water. Remus knows how he feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ḉa pourrait être toi,” his mother's voice whispers into his ear and he wonders if she’s speaking about the physical similarities he shares with the man in the painting—both lythe and slender, a mop of disheveled golden curls, freckling across the shoulders—or if she means that she sees this other side of Remus that he’s kept hidden away from everybody but Lily. She kisses his cheek. “Perfect and beautiful like you, mon Remus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling exposed, he takes a deep and steadying breath and moves to the crate that Sirius and his father are opening. Together they remove the next piece—</span>
  <em>
    <span>After the Bathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and place it against the wall, below where it will be hung. It’s a stunning piece. A tall, dark haired man, standing so sure of himself with only a towel held in his hands, the length pulled taught and running across his mid back covering nothing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at him,” Lyall says calmly. “Self-assured and confident,” he pauses, then takes two steps to the left and gestures around the room, nodding in the direction of each of the paintings. “The midday light, bright and casting deep shadows in the furrowed muscles of the backs of all these men captured spontaneously with quick and elegant brush strokes. All of them poised and nonchalant, hence their ageless ambiguity—as if they are daring you to desire them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus can’t help but look at Sirius as his father finishes speaking, and Sirius is looking right at him. At being caught, Sirius turns his attention to Lyall. “Isn’t that the general essence of Tuke?” Sirius questions, then moves towards the painting that Hope said looked like Remus. “This one,” he says reverently. “This man appears a lot. You see his hair, his freckled shoulders and soft cheeks in more than half of these. I’d dare to say that this man was in fact Tuke’s muse. That he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> desire him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus looks around, Sirius is correct and he wonders if there is a deeper meaning as to why and how Sirius put this together. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“That he DID desire him.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sirius’s words play over and over again in Remus’s mind, leaving an endless trail of interpretations to follow. Was he merely talking about Tuke and his freckled, golden haired muse, or was Sirius referring to Remus? Did he just say it to impress Lyall with his knowledge, or was he telling Remus that he sees him, that he desires him—daring to say that Remus is his muse? Though to be one's muse, one would have to be near that which he inspires, and Sirius has proven to be elusive once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus mulls all of this over from his perch on the balcony with his guitar held between his idly strumming hands—playing an indecipherable melancholic melody. He’s hardly seen or heard Sirius in the few days that have passed by since the unveiling of the paintings and it all feels very deliberate with Sirius’s early risings, his days spent toiling unnecessarily hard on his tasks set to help Remus’s father, and then disappearing long into the evening with little or no explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So long that most nights Remus’s body gives over to sleep before he hears Sirius clunking in his heavy boots into his bedroom. Sometimes it wakes him, sometimes it doesn’t, and whether he’s awake for Sirius’s arrival back to the villa or fast asleep, he always wants the same thing—for Sirius to come to him, to cross into his domain and speak clearly with either his words or his actions, but preferably both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Remus is not so lucky. And as Sirius continues his avoidance, Remus continues his longing, his questioning, and melodic lamenting from his perch on the balcony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he hears Sirius’s boots on the gravel driveway below where he sits Remus strums a little harder, louder, hoping that Sirius will hear him. He watches Sirius’s steps halt, he wills Sirius to turn and look up at him, to give him some sort of confirmation that Remus isn’t imagining all of this, everything between them that is going unsaid. But Sirius doesn’t turn, instead he brings a hand to his hair and pulls it back into a tightly held, smooth and perfectly groomed ponytail. Remus watches him brusquely walk away from the villa to whereabouts unbeknownst to anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stung, Remus rises from where he’s seated and re-enters his bedroom. He places his guitar on its stand and paces the room bringing his hands to his curls and tugging at them harshly in his frustration and wondering what it is that he can’t seem to get right when it comes to Sirius. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes fall onto Sirius’s bed—his bed—from across the bathroom they share. In another few weeks that bed and that bedroom will belong to Remus again. Will it still hold any essence of Sirius in there once Sirius’s stay with Remus and his family is through? Or will it immediately go back to the way things were before Sirius’s arrival? Will the room be like Remus, forever changed by Sirius’s presence? He desperately hopes so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curiosity and a need to be near Sirius in some way propels Remus forward through the bathroom and into the bedroom on the other side. He looks around, not digging, just taking a cursory glance to see how the space has changed because of Sirius’s presence in it. Some things have been moved around, nothing major, just little keepsakes that Remus has kept stored in there, and the reading light has moved from one night table to the other, perhaps to accommodate Sirius’s left handedness, who knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the desk, Remus finds a stack of Sirius’s sketches. He wills himself not to look, but his resolve is only so strong and if the implication that Sirius had laid out was true perhaps Remus will find some evidence of it here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first handful of drawings are relatively innocuous—landscapes of the property, the trees, the flowers, the hills that it all rests on. He finds the sketch Sirius had been working on a few days earlier of Lily and James helping his mother pick peaches, and after that a sketch of Marlene that Remus has to quickly push to the side. At the bottom of the pile is where he finds a few of himself, all like the paintings they’d stood in the presence of the other day—Remus’s back is towards Sirius, clear that Sirius had sketched them covertly. Some far away, and some near, but all very much the same and all of them very clearly Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he reorganizes the sketches into the neat pile he had found them in. His heart races and a blush creeps up his neck and cheeks with the beat of it and yet he still feels hollow. If Sirius could draw him so beautifully, why could he not speak to him the same? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus feels dizzy from all of it and his knees give out beneath him, forcing him to sit on the unmade bed. When his body hits the mattress his senses are overwhelmed with all things Sirius and he needs to be enveloped by it more fully, as if that is the only thing that will steady him and bring him back to solid ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls around in the sheets, buries his head into the soft, down pillows and breathes in heavily through his nose. But that’s not enough, he needs more. He grasps the blanket, the top sheet, and the pillow in his arms, holding all of it to his chest in a poor approximation of holding and being held by Sirius. Instead of making him feel steady as he hoped and thought it would, it all just makes him feel disoriented and drunk on his all encompassing desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain pouring down outside does nothing in helping Remus regain his bearings after guiltily rolling around in Sirius’s bed earlier that morning. He’d fixed the sheets and diligently tried to put the room back together so as to not clue Sirius in on what it was he had done. And now, as he moves about the villa with a warm cup of tea made from herbs from his mother's garden in his hands, he tries not to think of where it is that Sirius could be. Tries not to focus on where Sirius might be keeping dry and out of the way of the storm steadily blowing outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus,” his mother’s sweet and gentle voice calls from inside the living room as he walks past. “Viens t'asseoir avec nous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks over his shoulder to where her and his father are sitting, takes a sip of his tea then joins them on the large, worn sofa—perfect for days just like this when all you want is to stay sheltered and held close away from the elements, weather or just life in general both included. And though it’s been ages since he’s done so, Remus lets himself sit nestled in amongst Lyall and Hope like he used to as a child after having a particularly hard day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you reading?” he asks as he notices the book in his mother's hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother is translating Lorca,” Lyall says lovingly, keeping his eyes on his wife, the unending admiration he has for her always present when they have these quiet moments of just the three of them in the villa. Perhaps, Remus thinks, he’s more like his father than he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall I continue?” she asks and Remus nods his head as he lets it fall onto her shoulder. “It’s in Spanish,” she explains. “So I’ll translate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Por encontrar un beso tuyo...” she begins to say, the Spanish mingling heavily with her normally French speaking tongue as she moves through the poem. She stops and considers, mulling over how best to convey what she is reading. “He’s describing a kiss, or more so his desire for a kiss, one with meaning, with feeling behind it to match his longing.” She pauses and shifts herself to wrap an arm around Remus, then continues in Spanish again, “Por contemplar tus ojos negros…” she moves through the next verse pausing only to translate and explain. “He speaks of his love's eyes, how they open before god, like blinding stars.” Remus settles a little deeper into his seat as she speaks, hearing both his mother’s translations and Lily speaking to him about Sirius, the Américain star, he feels wholly exposed. His father places a steadying hand onto Remus’s shoulder, above where his mother’s hand is already resting. Remus takes a deep breath and she continues. “Y por besar tus muslos castos...” she recites the final verse slowly. Remus can sense his parents looking at each other over his head where it rests on Hope’s shoulder as she speaks the translation. “He wants to be with this person fully, intimately, and he’d give all that he has for it.” She shuts the book softly then lays it down on Remus’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He speaks of the deepest and most purest of loves, the kind that comes from one's soul, having no choice but to speak it, for it is laying him bare and wide open for all to see regardless of his silence,” Lyall says, giving his own interpretation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus keeps his eyes focused on the book in his lap and lets his fingers run over the binding. “I’d never have the courage to say such things,” he says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus,” Lyall’s voice says gently at the moment Hope places a kiss into his curls. “You know you can talk to us about anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus closes his eyes, nods his head and swallows thickly, but chooses to remain silent as he realizes that anything he could possibly say right now is something that they already know. He’s been laid bare by Sirius and everyone sees it—except, it would seem, for Sirius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus notices that true to Sirius’s patterns, his demeanor towards Remus changes with the weather. With the sun now shining again and the air hot and humid, Remus settles himself by the pool, wearing his shortest of swim trunks in the off chance that Sirius decides to join him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been far too many days since the two have had any sort of interaction that when Sirius makes an appearance next to where Remus is sunbathing and listening to music through his headphones it causes Remus to jolt to a seat at the sudden shadow that Sirius’s body casts on him. He rubs at his eyes then looks up at Sirius who is staring intently at his lounging form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go to town,” Sirius states. “Do you want to go with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have anything better to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Remus says perhaps a little too quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius hits Remus’s foot with the papers he’s holding in one hand then extends out his other for Remus and says, “Then let's go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nods his head yes as he grabs onto Sirius’s hand which is sure in its grip yet also gentle in the way that it pulls Remus to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bike ride into town is done in relative silence between the two, though Remus catches Sirius giving him the occasional furtive glance, as if he doesn’t realize that Remus will gladly follow him anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius hands off his bike to Remus when they arrive into town and walks into the local post office, leaving Remus outside and curious as to what it is he is doing. After a few minutes Remus gets tired of just standing and waiting. He glides the bikes over to a nearby bench hidden and tucked between two tall willowy trees and takes a seat, letting his eyes take in the view of the town and the river Loire cutting through it. It’s as beautiful as always and it’s been far too long since Remus has sat down and enjoyed the scenery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice here,” Sirius says minutes later as he takes a seat beside Remus, his thigh pressing against Remus’s as he settles in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Remus confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to miss this view when I’m gone,” Sirius says wistfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take it in often, do you?” Remus questions, curious as to how much time Sirius spends here and who with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Often enough,” Sirius says and though Remus’s eyes are forward, Remus can feel Sirius looking at him instead of the river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blushes under his gaze. “They say this town was one of the first to be built along the banks of the Loire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what they say,” Remus shrugs. “If you’d like, I can take you to where Alred Sisley often painted. There’s one rather famous landscape he did simply called </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Loire</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I’m sure you’ve seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you don’t know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know a lot of things, Sirius,” Remus sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know more about art and life than most people I’ve ever come around,” Sirius tries to assure, his thigh nudging Remus’s for attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus runs a hand through his curls and lets out a heavy breath. “If you only knew how little I know about the things that matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What things that matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus turns and looks Sirius directly in the eye. He takes a deep breath and summons his courage. “You know what things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius’s eyes soften as he looks back at him. “Why are you telling me all this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I thought you should know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus averts his gaze to look forward again. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that has befallen the two after Remus’s confession is anything but comfortable. Remus wants to sink deep into the ground underneath the park bench and go back to a world where he never said anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not being able to take it any longer he rubs his hands roughly against his thighs then brings both hands to his curls and tugs harshly. “I wish I’d never said anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Sirius says gently and grabs a hold of Remus’s arm that is closest to him. He pulls on it and Remus let’s go of his hair and brings his hands down into his lap. Sirius takes the hand of the arm he was holding and regards it with his gaze then holds it nestled between their thighs, his thumb rubbing back and forth across Remus’s knuckles. “We can’t talk about such things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Remus asks quietly and sadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That answer doesn’t suffice for Remus, especially not when Sirius is holding his hand so reverently. “This is who I am, Sirius,” Remus says and pulls his hand out of Sirius’s. He turns to look at him again. “And I think it’s who you are. And you are what I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making things very difficult for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus just shrugs and averts his gaze again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we should go,” Sirius says but makes no effort to rise off the bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t do this—I know myself,” Sirius says, his usual confident bravado wavering. “So far we’ve behaved. We’ve been good. Neither of us has done anything to feel ashamed of. Let’s keep it that way. I want to be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not ashamed!” Remus exclaims. “And I don’t want to hide anymore, or be </span>
  <em>
    <span>good—</span>
  </em>
  <span>whatever that means—when it feels so bad. When I feel like I’m lying to myself and everyone around me.” Remus in his aggravation begins to rise. Never had he thought that Sirius would be the one who would be afraid of what others would think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus, wait.” Sirius places his hand onto Remus’s shoulder and keeps him from rising any farther. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus slumps back onto the bench, defeated and tired and just so sick of the ups and downs and the pretending that something isn’t what it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels Sirius shift next to him, angling himself more towards Remus. The hand that was on Remus’s shoulder slides up his neck, cradling his nape with wide, broad fingers and turns Remus to face him. Remus watches Sirius wet his lips mere moments before he leans the rest of the way forward and places the lightest of kisses onto Remus’s waiting lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eager for more, Remus leans into Sirius’s kiss. He lets his mouth open slightly when he feels Sirius’s tongue caress his bottom lip and Sirius promptly sucks that lip between his, creating a scintillating pressure, plumping Remus’s already full pout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Remus, the kiss is both exactly what he’s been craving and more than he could ever have imagined. He had hoped that a kiss from Sirius would leave him sated and satisfied, but all it’s done as they pull apart is make him yearn for him more. Now that he’s had a taste he knows for sure that he will forever be changed. And when Sirius rests his forehead against Remus’s, he thinks that maybe he has left an indelible impression on Sirius as well. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After their first kiss Remus had hoped that maybe things between them would be different—well more different. Instead, they’ve largely gone back to how things were before, just with slight, subtle changes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like right now—after a morning of ignoring Remus and avoiding whatever area of the villa he was in—Remus finds himself sitting beside Sirius at lunch on the patio. To everyone else at the table—Hope and Lyall, Lily and James, Mr and Mrs Evans, Pomona and Minerva—it would appear as if nothing about them has changed. Sirius is sitting at a comfortable distance, they are maintaining conversation with everyone around them, and despite Remus’s best efforts he has yet to even capture a quick glance from Sirius. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus, où étais-tu hier?” Lily asks him with a suspicious look on her face as she shoos a honey bee away from the basket of ripe peaches on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nulle part, just town,” he says quickly, his words catching at the end as he feels the side of Sirius’s foot slide along his calf. He lets his eyes flit to Sirius quickly hoping that Sirius will be looking at him in some way, but his attention is facing forward seemingly thoroughly engrossed in whatever it is that Pomona and Minerva are saying to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus blushes and turns to look at Lily again who is giving him a pointed look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In town, you say?” she questions back to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes Lily, town,” Remus repeats and shoos the same bee away from the peaches again, sending it in Lily’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs it off. “James and I are meeting Peter, Marlene, Frank and Alice later if you want to join us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus considers this, he’s been hoping that Sirius would give him a reason to stay in later, though he’s yet to even speak a word to Remus. “Oui,” he says and nods his head, but then feels Sirius’s foot run along his calf again, stopping behind his ankle and gently tugging it more towards him, as if silently asserting his will, maybe even perhaps telling Remus that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>has plans for him tonight. Remus quickly adjusts. “We’ll see. I might just stay in.” Sirius’s foot begins to softly run up and down his calf again at Remus’s change of reply to Lily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dites-moi savoir,” she says, “Whatever you want, just let me know later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oui,” Remus repeats and looks down at his near empty plate to hide the guilty blush on his face. He brings a hand up to shield his eyes and push a stray curl that is tickling his forehead out of the way. Instantly he’s met with a sharp jolt of pain above his left eyebrow. “Aie!” he exclaims and everyone turns to look at him. Though the only face he cares to see is Sirius’s who looks completely alarmed at Remus’s expression of pain—it almost hurts to look at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C'était une abeille,” Lily explains and gestures at the dead honey bee on Remus’s plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus rises from his seat and quickly dashes inside in search of some form of relief for the sting, as well as a reason to get out from under Sirius’s concerned gaze, the intensity of which is leaving him feeling more raw than the punctured and burning skin on his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs some ice from the kitchen, wraps it in a towel, then slides himself into the corner bench of the currently unused breakfast nook off to the side. He rests his back and his head against the wall, and brings his feet to rest on the upholstered bench then closes his eyes and holds the ice to his swelling forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus,” he hears Sirius’s voice, gentle and smooth and uncharacteristically quiet, call for him. “Where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m over here,” he answers back, opening his eyes in time to see Sirius peering in around the corner. He gestures him over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius slides right in and picks up Remus’s feet from the bench, then deposits them onto his lap. Remus sighs as he feels Sirius begin to squeeze and rub his fingertips and thumb pads into the soft soles of Remus’s feet. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a mess,” Remus answers truthfully, having been undone by a simple bee sting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt that,” Sirius laughs then switches to Remus’s other foot. He pauses to look at it before he begins rubbing and brings it to his lips placing a soft kiss on the top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus has to avert his eyes. The sight of Sirius paying such loving attention to such an unremarkable part of Remus is overwhelming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be alright?” Sirius asks. “You’re not allergic or anything are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Remus shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Sirius says as he shifts to lean over Remus and moves the ice out of the way. He kisses Remus’s lips first, then lifts to place the softest of kisses onto his forehead, his lips lingering there for an extra beat that is not nearly long enough to satisfy Remus’s cravings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Explique,” Lily demands when she enters Remus’s bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to explain,” Remus sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but there is. I saw the way the Américain star was looking at you. The way he ran in after you. Something has happened.” She shuts the door then lies down on the bed beside Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns onto his side to look at her, never able to lie to Lily, that’s how she figured him out in the first place. “We kissed,” he says and smiles mischievously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus,” she says excitedly and moves her hand to pat his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bats her hand away. “Watch it,” he says and pushes his curls back to show her the swollen lump above his brow. “It still hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean the star did not kiss it and make it better?” Remus blushes guiltily at her words. “He did! Didn’t he?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did,” Remus confirms, then smiles, laughs and adds, “He also kissed my foot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily looks completely aghast and brings her hand to her lips to not so successfully stifle a giggle. “He is, as the Américains say, smitten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is not smitten,” Remus denies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but he is! One does not kiss just anybody’s feet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus looks at her skeptically and repeats, “He’s not smitten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this why you’re not going out with us tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nods his head, the memory in both his mind and his calf replaying the moment earlier that day when Sirius’s foot demanded—or at least implied—that Sirius wanted Remus to himself later. And Remus is in no state to deny Sirius anything after all these weeks of silently pining away for the other man. “You understand, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” she assures. “And I am happy for you. Just be careful. I don’t want him breaking your heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus rolls onto his back to look away from her. “I’m afraid that I think that might be unavoidable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s leaving in just three more weeks and he was already bound to take my heart with him even if nothing else happens between us.” He pauses and wipes at his eyes. “Even if he hadn’t kissed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily rolls onto her back and Remus is grateful for the semblance of privacy that it provides him. She takes his hand in hers and just holds it as she lies beside him. “So I guess we’ll both be nursing each other’s broken hearts at the end of the summer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your’s won’t be broken,” Remus laughs. “James will never let you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Distance can change things,” she sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a difference between being a train ride away and living across the ocean from your love,” Remus says wisely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying you and Sirius are in love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about him,” Remus shrugs. “But I know I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I love James too,” Lily confesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s always been obvious,” Remus laughs and it breaks away all the tension that had managed to fill the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the dinner bell trills around the villa it rouses Remus from a deep sleep and he feels slightly disoriented in his post nap and bee stung haze. The last he remembers he was speaking to Lily, confessing to someone outside of himself the true depth of his feelings for Sirius. It felt good to voice them, yet now as he sits and attempts to tame his disheveled curls for dinner he can’t shake the feeling that the other shoe is threatening to drop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s known he was destined for heartbreak since the moment he first laid eyes on Sirius when he stepped out of the back of the taxi cab upon his arrival. He’s just figured it would at least hold out until Sirius’s final day with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep steadying breath and rises to his feet, then listens intently for any sounds, both big or small, coming from the direction of Sirius's room. He’s only met with silence. He leaves with a quick lingering glance towards Sirius bed as he walks through their shared bathroom, figuring that Sirius is probably downstairs already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he gets to the table out on the patio it’s only his mother and father waiting there amongst an array of food and a bottle of wine on ice. Lyall grabs the bottle from the chiller on the table and pours them each a glass. He raises his glass to his wife and son as Remus sits down and fumbles to grab his own, narrowly avoiding knocking it over in the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Sirius?” Remus asks after he takes a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe he went out,” Lyall says casually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be going out with Lily later?” Hope asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Remus says, avoiding her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vous ne vous sentez pas bien?” Hope asks and reaches across the table to push Remus’s curls off of his forehead gently and looks upon his bee sting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Je vais bien,” Remus assures her that he’s fine, but she continues to look at him skeptically. “Just tired is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm,” she hums still regarding him thoughtfully. He thinks he catches her flit her eyes towards Sirius’s empty seat. “Rest after dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nods his head and brings a small forkful of his mother’s perfectly crafted cassoulet to his mouth. It’s divine and comforting, like one of her warm hugs, and he’s secretly suspicious—though eternally grateful—that her making it was no mere coincidence. Perhaps, in her infinite wisdom in all matters of the heart, she picked up on something that Remus didn’t. Why else would Sirius not be here? Especially after he’d made it obvious that he wanted Remus to be here tonight. Though there is always the chance that Remus has misread Sirius’s signals once again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time dinner is over, Sirius still hasn’t made an appearance, and Remus has given up all hope for whatever it is that Sirius may have had planned for them. He excuses himself from the table, forgoing his usual habit of helping his mother and father with the dishes, and heads back to his bedroom with a full belly and a heavy heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tosses and turns, existing in a state of both wakefulness and sleep, his thoughts too slow, yet still too loud for rest to completely overtake him. He imagines Sirius coming to him, sitting upon his bed, kissing his forehead, then maybe his lips, then maybe everywhere else. If only he could be that lucky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point he thinks he hears Sirius return, though it could just be a vivid dream. Either way, he’s left alone in his bed with nothing but his desire to keep him company. That had been company enough for Remus for most of Sirius’s stay—enough to keep Remus’s heart at bay. But once Remus had confessed how he felt and they shared that kiss and a few increasingly tender moments, unmet desire has now become a far more cruel internal chastisement for simply being Remus Lupin and daring to ask for what it is that he wants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning Remus wakes with renewed vigor in his annoyance and anger at Sirius for his mixed messages and absence the night before. He gets up brusquely, throws a tee shirt on to cover his bare chest and lithely strides across the tiled bathroom floor that separates the two of them, determined to get answers from Sirius. He’s halted to a stop when he finds Sirius’s bed unmade and empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus rubs his head between his hands and lets out a heavy huff along with a bit of his frustration to let Sirius have a piece of his mind. He walks to the desk beside the window and feels his heart leap from his chest taking all the color from his face with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the very top is a new sketch of Remus—he can’t quite pinpoint when it was done—he just knows that he hasn’t seen it before, and he’s quite sure he probably isn’t meant to see it now, though he doesn’t care. And just like he took matters into his own hands a few days earlier, he makes the decision to do so again now. He tears a blank sheet of paper out of Sirius’s sketch pad and drafts a quick message in his tidy scrawl. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t avoid me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He tears the message off the paper, crumples it up, then writes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your silence is killing me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Still not good enough. He tears this one as well and writes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t stand thinking you hate me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He tears that up too, and writes once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t stand this silence. I need to be with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This one he leaves on top of the sketch of himself hoping that Sirius won’t miss the message, then heads downstairs for breakfast. His mother’s pain au chocolat and a hot and fresh made cafe au lait is sure to settle his nerves as he awaits a response from Sirius. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s halfway through his second cup of coffee, sitting at the piano bench with his notes laid out over the covered keys when he hears his father and Sirius chatting and laughing boisterously in the entryway of the villa. They walk past him on their way into Lyall’s office—Lyall stopping to give Remus a quick kiss to his cheek while Sirius looks on, offering Remus a contrite smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he does recognize he did wrong,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Remus thinks. Though he’s not sure it will make a difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once alone again, Remus pours himself into his work, breaking apart the layers of an original symphony that he knows will be a requirement of him during his studies. Figuring he may as well get a running head start while he’s in need of a distraction. Best to use this time wisely than continue to waste it pining away at Sirius who can’t seem to convey his message clearly. Perhaps once he’s confronted with Remus’s words on paper and forced to write his own thoughts down, Sirius will understand that what he says and does matters to Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours later Remus heads to his room to put his notes away feeling accomplished and pleased with himself and his work. He’s been so distracted all day that he’s hardly thought of Sirius at all—though he won’t be surprised to discover later that his melodies have a distinct feel of melancholy within the dreamy refrain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s placing his notes and line sheets into the desk drawer when he sees a folded up piece of sketch paper wedged underneath Remus’s cedar and orange scented candle. He opens it and reads.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll come for you at midnight.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The rest of the day moved both far too slowly and all too fast at once, as if everything about Remus was going at a rapid pace and the world around him had stopped moving altogether. And whether it made matters better or worse—Remus couldn’t quite be sure. Sirius had managed to make himself scarce for the rest of the afternoon and evening, forgoing dinner and skipping his usual post-work swim in the pool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus, afraid his pacing and general nervous energy would set off too many alarms for those around him that something was up had retreated to his bedroom straight after dinner for the second night in a row. At least up there he was self-contained and far more likely to detect Sirius’s arrival, assuming he’d hold true to his written word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Remus finally heard the distinct sound of Sirius’s heavy boots making their way up the stairs he felt as if he was finally able to breathe, think, and act properly again. The sound of those footfalls were grounding for Remus, bringing him back down to earth before he floated away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave himself a quick once-over—smoothing out his shirt, rolling the hem of his shorts up another inch shorter, laying an errant curl more flush with the rest—in the skinny mirror propped up in the corner of his makeshift room. Unsure of where to be waiting he goes and stands beside the window. He takes a peek at the sky—the moon full amongst the sea of stars around it. It’s beautiful and mesmerizing and feels significant to him. He only looks away—peeking over his shoulder towards the door behind him—when he hears Sirius open it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius looks quiet—eyes soft, lips in a mild curve, hair pulled back in a stylish knot—as he enters the room. He doesn’t speak to Remus right away. He walks with three silent strides across the room despite his heavy boots. He stops when he gets to the window and gently takes Remus’s hand within both of his, rolling it over in his palms and tracing a finger down the center. It sends shivers down Remus’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came,” Remus says, voice barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you think I wouldn't?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know what to think,” Remus shrugs then looks back out the window. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you to show up since you arrived here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted to,” Sirius says and slides one of his hands up Remus’s arm, past his shoulder and up to his neck, his thick fingers sliding into Remus’s hair, his palm warm and sure on the bare skin below Remus’s hairline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why haven’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Remus laughs. “But what on earth could you possibly have to be nervous about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s going to happen regardless,” Remus sighs and turns to look back at Sirius. He’s struck by the earnestness he sees in Sirius’s eyes, still managing to look sorrowful and apologetic even with the light sky reflecting so brilliantly in them—little flecks of silver in among the grey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please know that hurting you has never been my intention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Remus says as he watches Sirius take in a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets go of Remus’s hand and brings his hand to Remus’s waist, pressing it on the crest of Remus’s hip bone. He angles his head down and rests his forehead against Remus’s before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus quickly closes the gap instead of answering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With their lips pressed together and Sirius’s strong arms wrapped around him, Remus finally feels at ease, at home, once again. And unlike their kiss on the bench below the willows or the quick press of Sirius’s lips from the other day in the breakfast nook, this kiss is all-consuming. It sings through Remus’s body more vibrantly than any alto can carry a symphonic tune. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hardly registers the difference in orientation when Sirius lays him down on his bed, and whether that's from his euphoria or just the gentle yet still sure and confident way in which Sirius handles him he doesn’t know, nor does he care. Once lying down, with the weight of Sirius above him, Remus feels as if there is nothing in this life he can’t handle, he’s ready for it all, as long as he has the sturdy support of Sirius keeping him grounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I?” Sirius asks again, breaking away from Remus’s lips and bringing his hands to the hem of Remus’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” Remus lifts himself slightly off the bed to make removing his shirt easier. Once it’s gone Sirius’s brings his lips to Remus’s now bare chest and begins feasting on his skin, lavishing his chest, his abdomen, the few ribs that press out against his smooth and summer freckled skin with an onslaught of kisses licks and barely there nibbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sirius reaches the beltline of Remus’s shorts he lifts his head again and looks directly into Remus’s eyes again. “Can I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to ask,” Remus says, his voice pleading. “I’m yours, you can do with me as you please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius slowly closes his eyes then slides his way back up Remus’s body to kiss him soundly on the lips again. “And I’m yours, completely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus lifts his head to bring his lips to Sirius’s again, all of his senses overwhelmed and heightened by Sirius’s words. He briefly wonders how he has managed to survive up until this moment in his life. His memories seem dull and hollow without Sirius there to paint them in his light. From here on out, everything in Remus’s world will be brighter, bolder, more substantial and all around more solid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As their clothes get removed and Remus gets to see all of Sirius—the man looks more statuesque than Remus had ever conjured in his wildest dreams. Remus briefly tries to cover himself in the shadow of Sirius, feeling as if he doesn’t come near measuring up to the man leaning over him between his legs, kissing him lovingly, caressing his skin, and holding his thighs up and back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Sirius implores. “You’re perfect. A work of art.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having never been told such a thing in such a way, Remus blushes furiously and reaches up to brush his fingers across Sirius’s chiseled jaw. “Says the man who looks as if he was carved from stone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you look like you wandered out of a painting of my sincerest dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus melts at his words and the vulnerability that was living just below the surface of them, setting him completely at ease for Sirius to care for him with practiced hands, leaving Remus open and ready for Sirius in every way imaginable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After taking his time making sure Remus was fully ready, not just physically but emotionally as well, Sirius finally presses himself fully inside and Remus is overcome by the intensity of all of it. And as Sirius begins to move—slowly and gently—that intensity carries over into bliss. Remus, for the first time in his life, feels fully seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With their bodies completely entangled Remus allows Sirius to guide him to lie on his side. His heart rate is beginning to slow, his breaths are still deep and every piece of his being is satisfied in a way no meal, work of art, or piece of music could ever accomplish. None of those things can hold Remus in their arms and look at him so lovingly while brushing his damp curls away from his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus closes those eyes as he feels Sirius trail his fingertips from Remus’s hairline, over his cheek, and to his jaw and then back around again in an endless loop, only stopping to pepper Remus’s lips with kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sirius pulls his lips away Remus opens his eyes again and is met with Sirius’s impossibly warm grey gaze. His eyes crinkle at the corners a bit as he smiles, brushes Remus’s cheek again and says, “Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus,” Remus says quietly, almost questioningly then traps the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirius,” Sirius whispers, his hand still caressing Remus’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus.” This time Remus smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remu—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius quickly cuts off his words and kisses him soundly—perhaps even urgently—once again, then wraps his arms more firmly around Remus, clutching him like he’s never going to let him go, and if it is up to Remus, he’ll never have to. He closes his eyes again and eventually drifts off to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes hours or minutes later he notices that Sirius has shifted him. His head is pillowed on Sirius’s chest and rising and falling with Sirius’s breath, the beat of Sirius’s heart placing a steady rhythm in his ear that Remus commits to memory—promising himself that he’ll compose a symphony to that exact tempo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The notes are playing in his mind—smooth and melodic, emulating the way that Sirius had made love to him mere hours ago—when he feels Sirius begin to stir. His hand slowly runs up and down Remus’s arm and he places a gentle kiss into Remus’s hair that makes Remus’s entire body flood with affection for the man he is resting on. He squeezes himself a little tighter against Sirius’s torso. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Sirius hums, his voice heavy and sleepy. “Are you feeling okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus blushes, happy that he’s tucked underneath Sirius’s chin, and nods his head yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t hurt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Remus sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you tell me if I did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably not,” Remus laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius brings his hand to Remus’s jaw and uses his thumb pressed under Remus’s chin to tip him to look up at him and says, “You must.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus, not sure what to say just nods his head yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me you will. That you’ll always speak up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Remus vows and has to swallow around the lump that is quickly forming in his throat. His eyes suddenly sting and feel misty at the tenderness in which Sirius is regarding him inside and out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Sirius says and rolls Remus onto his back then slots himself back between Remus’s parted legs, his intention of making love to Remus again unspoken yet heard loud and clear through the movements of his body and the intensity of his kisses.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At breakfast Remus is bright and giddy despite the minimal sleep he managed from the night before. It’s as if Sirius has given him new energy, a new outlook on life, a new way to be, and he’d be a fool to think that nobody would take notice. </p><p>“Mon Remus, si heureux aujourd'hui,” Hope says as she passes him another cafe au lait. </p><p>“It’s a beautiful day,” Lyall says before Remus gets a chance to respond. “Plenty of things to be happy about.”</p><p>Remus can feel his father’s gaze on him. Nervous, he ducks his head and chances a glance from underneath his curls in his father’s direction. He’s smiling serenely, as if he knows something and Remus has a pretty good idea what that is. He feels his whole body heat up. </p><p>“Le bonheur te va bien,” Hope says, casually opening up her newspaper.</p><p>“Happiness looks good on everybody,” Lyall says loudly, loud enough that it drowns out the sound of Sirius making his arrival. His sudden presence shocking Remus as Lyall asks him, “Don’t you think that’s true, Sirius?”</p><p>“That happiness looks good on everybody?” he questions and Remus feels Sirius’s foot glide against his calf as Sirius takes his seat at the table. “I must agree, Professor. It’s a good look for us all.”</p><p>“Even you are wearing a lighter smile today,” Lyall notes, then grabs another croissant and motions for Sirius to do the same. “If you don’t mind Sirius, I need you to run to town today and pick up the transcripts from the printer. Will that be alright?”</p><p>“I can do that,” Sirius agrees and Remus feels his lips shift to a small pout. He’d been hoping to have Sirius to himself today. And as if reading his thoughts, he feels Sirius’s foot brush and hook around his calf again. “I’ll go as soon as I finish breakfast.”</p><p>From there, breakfast goes by too quickly. Sirius’s foot, which has been steadily and covertly caressing Remus’s calf all throughout his enjoyment of his coffee, suddenly stills and slides away. Sirius rises from the table, takes one last sip of his juice, then gives everybody a flick of his hand resembling a wave and says, “Later.”</p><p>Remus waits until he is out of sight, then excuses himself from the table. He runs towards the shed where the bikes are stored then pulls his out and notices that Sirius has left the bike that’s been reserved for him all summer—he must have taken the car, he’ll be miles ahead of Remus already. Remus hops onto his bike, rides out through the villas gate and out onto the road, determined to catch up with Sirius at record speed. He’s halfway to town before it occurs to him that maybe Sirius wanted to go it alone for a reason.</p><p>When he pulls into town he sees Sirius coming out of the bookstore instead of the printers with a package in his hand wrapped in twine. Remus halts his bike a few steps from Sirius, dismounts it, and holds it steady beside him as he walks towards Sirius. </p><p>“Something wrong?” Sirius asks, his voice tilting up at the end. </p><p>“I just had to see you.” </p><p>“Aren’t you sick of me?” Sirius jokes lightly, but Remus can’t tell if it’s meant with affection or accusation. </p><p>“I just wanted to be with you. If you want, I’ll go back now.” Remus looks over his shoulder in the direction of which he came. </p><p>With gentle fingers Sirius directs Remus to look at him again. “Do you have any idea how glad I am that we’ve been together?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Remus confesses. He only knows how happy he is that they’re together, not just now but last night, later and tomorrow, and for however long Sirius will have him.</p><p>“It’s just like you not to know.” He slides his hand down and lightly takes a hold of Remus’s—completely nonchalant about the people around them. “I want you to know that I don’t regret any of it. I don’t want either of us to.”</p><p>“I never would,” Remus says as Sirius begins to lead them to an alcove between two buildings, giving them some privacy.</p><p>Sirius leans in close, his lips ghosting over Remus’s ear. “Do you know how hard it is for me to not kiss you right now?”</p><p>“Do you know that I would let you?”</p><p>Sirius sucks in a breath, then swiftly brings his hands to Remus’s jaw and kisses him fiercely in their slightly tucked away corner. “I’ll see you back at the house,” he says breathlessly when he pulls away, then walks and looks back at Remus over his shoulder. “Later!”</p><p>“Later,” Remus calls back and laughs as he watches Sirius walk away from him. It’s not until Sirius rounds the corner of the building that they tucked themselves beside that Remus realizes he’s now holding onto the package that Sirius was carrying out of the bookstore.</p><p>
  <em> For Sirius, From Remus.  </em>
</p><p>Remus holds the package to his chest, tucks his chin over the edge and closes his eyes—the sound of Sirius’s voice calling him by his name the night before ringing through his memories. What could Sirius have gotten him? And how had he managed to be so sly in handing it to him?</p><p>Eager to find out what is wrapped inside, but also not wanting to risk ruining whatever it is, Remus gets back onto his bike and hurries home with one hand clutching the package and the other steering his way. He doesn’t bother to put the bike away upon his arrival, just rests it against the side of the shed and rushes past his mother working away in the garden with Pomona to head inside and immediately up to his bedroom. </p><p>He sits on his bed and rests the package in his lap, the fingers on his right hand idly tracing over Sirius’s handwriting before he carefully undoes the twine holding the wrapping in place then even more carefully removes the book inside. </p><p>His eyes go wide as he gets his first glimpse of it. It’s gorgeous. A journal bound in soft leather with his named <em> Remus John Lupin </em> burned across the front. But it doesn’t stop there. When Remus opens it he’s met with page after page of line sheets and places for notes and ideas, there’s a ribbon to mark his place, and intermittently dispersed throughout are sketches Remus has as of yet not seen. Sketches of the villa, his family, friends, the town, himself and even one of Sirius drawn as a reflection in a mirror. It’s breathtaking, and clearly a lot of thought and planning has gone into it. Enough so that it must have been born before Remus and Sirius had even kissed for the first time. As if Sirius had always known that them coming together was written in the stars. </p><p>Holding this journal in his hands, flipping through the pages, taking in all the little details, Remus is overcome with emotion. All the thought that went into this, all the care and planning—it all causes Remus’s heart to swell—and when his eyes begin to sting, dampen and let loose like a dam breaking he’s struck with the sudden realization that their time together is rapidly coming to an end. This gift is what marks it’s begun to close. </p><p>_____</p><p>After a full and solid, gut-wrenchingly aching cry, Remus begins to gather himself and attempts to put himself back together. A feat easier said than done. </p><p>He’s restless and anxious, his hands rubbing up and down his thighs. It makes him miss the way Sirius’s hands—large and calloused from gripping pens, pencils, and paintbrushes too harshly—feel when they do the same. And it’s not just his hands that he misses. Remus wants to feel Sirius’s lips again, not just on his mouth but all over his body. He wants Sirius’s weight above him once more, or for eternity, to keep him grounded and focused on his newfound utopia of a reality whenever Sirius is near. He wishes Sirius was near him right now, he wants to be consumed by him, to have Sirius surround him, to cage him between his arms while Remus cages Sirius between his legs.  </p><p>Sirius had said ‘later’ when he left Remus in town, but ‘later’ could mean anything, anytime, anywhere. Remus wants ‘later’ to be now. </p><p>In his restlessness, Remus walks across the shared bath into Sirius’s bedroom, looking for something, anything that could tide him over until ‘later’ arrives. He takes a quick glance around the room and notices Sirius’s leather jacket slung over a chair. Sirius has hardly had reason to wear it, but when Remus picks it up he’s overcome with Sirius’s smell all around him. If it could be this intense just from Remus holding it, surely it could be more if he was to wear it. </p><p>He quickly strips off his own shirt, not wanting any barrier between him and anything Sirius at this moment, and once he replaces it with Sirius’s jacket he feels his world begin to slow down, to tether him into place. He takes a seat on Sirius’s bed and marvels at the warmth he’s feeling within Sirius’s clothes—loving the way the cuffs of the sleeves hang over his fingertips, the way the hem completely covers his backside and drapes over the front of his thighs. He rises again and quickly removes the rest of his clothes as well, wanting to see himself wrapped in Sirius’s jacket alone, visual proof that if Sirius was here holding him he could disappear into his much larger frame. </p><p>After seeing himself in the mirror Remus collapses onto the bed again, and again he is awash in a plume of Sirius’s smell. He takes a deep breath in, trying to capture all of it into his lungs, and then subsequently into his body to presumably live there forever through his blood. </p><p>The scent, the jacket, memories of the night before, all of it rushes through Remus and collects together in his cock making him instantly hard. Sirius is nowhere in sight and Remus has no context as to what or when ‘later’ can mean, nor does he want to wait that long. </p><p>Without giving it much thought he parts his legs and slides his hand to grasp his cock and begins to gratify himself with nothing but Sirius on his mind. He closes his eyes, tugs at his curls, arches his back and lets out a quiet moan. </p><p>He feels the bed dip down beside him at the same moment he hears Sirius whisper, “Well this is quite the sight.” </p><p>Remus’s eyes shoot open and he stills his hand, all the while wishing he could disappear into the mattress.</p><p>“Don’t stop on my account,” Sirius says and leans down to kiss Remus’s lips. Remus tries to squirm away, but Sirius is far quicker in the way that he scoops Remus up into his arms. “How am I supposed to ever wear that jacket again?” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Remus says against Sirius’s chest.</p><p>“Don’t be,” Sirius laughs and pulls Remus’s head away from where he’s hiding it against Sirius’s body to look at him. “You’ve just imprinted quite the visual into my memory.”</p><p>Remus sheepishly smiles at him. “I don’t want you to go.”</p><p>“I don’t want to either,” Sirius confesses, pulling Remus back into him and stroking Remus hair. “I’m not ready to let you go.”</p><p>“It feels like we only just caught each other.”</p><p>“I’ve been yours since I got here.”</p><p>“I wish that was true.”</p><p>“I’d never lie to you, Remus. I was drawn to you from the moment we met.”</p><p>“Then why wait so long? We wasted so much time.”</p><p>“I didn’t want you to get hurt. I still don’t want that.”</p><p>“The not knowing hurt me more.”</p><p>“You say that now, but I fear it will only get worse from here,” Sirius says and uses his strength to hoist Remus into his lap to straddle and face him. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”</p><p>“I’ve fallen in love with you too.”</p><p>Sirius kisses Remus soundly then says more than asks, “Come to Paris with me before I leave.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Alors tu vas à Paris?” Lily asks Remus a few days later from where she is lying on his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus looks over his shoulder, his chin brushing against the soft worn leather of Sirius’s jacket that he's been wearing practically every moment he could since Sirius had caught him in it. “He wants me to come with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what if he wants you to go with him back to America?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He might.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lily, I can’t think like that. Even if that was the case, it’s not a possibility.” He turns and grabs three shirts off of his shelves and places them into his bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he’ll choose to stay here, finish his studies in Paris.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus briefly stops packing to consider this and immediately regrets it as it has gotten his hopes in the split second that the idea has lived out loud. “It’s best to not even consider it,” he says harshly and zips his bag up forcefully, then lies down on the bed beside Lily. “Can we talk about something else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oui, bien sûr,” Lily says apologetically and takes his hand within hers. “So how was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what,” she teases and nudges her shoulder against his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Remus sighs. “Better than good. Amazing, completing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Completing? How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to explain,” he begins and turns to face her. “I just never expected it could be like this, that someone could hold the key to so much of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily regards him thoughtfully. “He’s changed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s made me more me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how it is, you’ve been around me, the villa, my family for longer than anybody. We’ve lived in this world of art and expression and unimaginable beauty for ages, and all of it has always been so ingrained that it has almost become mundane. But now, it’s like Sirius has re-illuminated it all. Showed me so much more of what it all means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He shines through you too, you know. I see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus grins at this, a vision of Sirius’s softest expression that seems only reserved for Remus dancing through his mind. “He told me he loved me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus et Sirius sont amoureux,” Lily manages to tease as she beams at Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really do love him,” Remus sighs again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when he leaves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily scoots across the bed and shifts herself to rest her head on Remus’s chest and wrap an arm around his waist. “You’ll see the art, you’ll read the words, and you’ll create new music, all through the filtered lens of Sirius Black.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus adjusts his bag over his shoulder and watches as Sirius hurriedly hands his luggage to the conductor. They’re running late, having taken their time at breakfast and getting thoroughly engaged in conversation with Lyall about all the things and places Sirius needs to catch in Paris before his flight back at the end of the weekend. Of course, Remus wants to go to these places, and so does Sirius, but Sirius’s insistence that he put them up in a suite at Le Bristol Paris for the weekend is a guarantee that they’ll be spending more time tangled in the sheets together and enjoying the romance of Paris in a far more intimate way than sightseeing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come back soon,” Lyall says to Sirius as he takes Sirius’s hand in his to shake it, then pulls the larger man in for a quick hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sirius, you are always welcome here,” Hope says to him as well and looks at Remus before she kisses Sirius—who has to lean down for her—once on each cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Sirius assures them both. “Thank you for everything. This has truly been an experience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train whistle blows, signifying it’s near time to depart. Remus quickly kisses his mother and father good-bye and offers them a shy yet happy wave as Sirius grabs his hand and leads him onto the train and to their seats. He places a quick kiss into Remus’s curls then guides Remus to lay his head down onto his shoulder, a place that Remus has grown to feel was crafted just for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once in Paris and settled into their room, Sirius opens the double French doors that overlook the boulevard and leans out over the balcony, he gestures Remus over to join him, placing an arm around Remus’s shoulders when he steps outside. “It’s beautiful,” Sirius says and his eyes turn to Remus. “Almost as beautiful as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re mistaken,” Remus blushes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know works of art when I see them,” Sirius says as he brings their lips together and scoops Remus up into his arms. He quickly and somewhat clumsily maneuvers them back inside and falls atop Remus on the bed. The two falling together in a laughing heap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for bringing me here,” Remus says once he catches his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we stop time and just stay here forever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish we could,” Sirius answers and places a kiss onto Remus’s lips. “But let’s not think of such things yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus bites his lower lip and nods his head in agreement, he can worry about the after, later. For now, all he wants is to be as close to Sirius as possible, and from the way that Sirius is beginning to kiss up and down Remus’s neck, he can tell Sirius wants the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus, of course, has been to Paris before—many times, in fact. But seeing it with Sirius on the rare occasions that they leave the comfortable confines of their room is a far different experience. The museums, the cafes, the cathedrals, the bridges all have a new sense of grandeur. A grandeur that matches the size and personality of Sirius, despite the fact that he is unable to communicate with most of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you learned nothing in the time that you’ve been here?” Remus teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve learned plenty!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about art and its history,” Remus says pointedly but still laughing as he hands a few francs to the cashier then says to her, “Merci beaucoup.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius grabs their little bag full of pastries and the bottle of wine with one hand then nods at the woman behind the counter, giving her his most charming smile that Remus notices causes her to blush. Sirius, Remus notes, ignores this and strides quickly to the door and holds it open for Remus. “You could offer to give me lessons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that how you want to spend our last night together? Finally learning French.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Sirius laughs and grabs a hold of Remus’s hand once they’re out of the patisserie. “I have far more intimate languages to speak with you tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?” Remus swings their interlaced hands as they walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is very much so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must admit, that is a far better use of our time,” Remus says wistfully. Sirius stops walking and turns to face Remus then dips down to place a kiss onto his forehead. When he pulls away he looks at Remus thoughtfully and a bit sadly. “What?” Remus pleads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Sirius assures. “I just wish to remember you just like this.” Remus tries to duck his head, but Sirius leans down and captures his lips in a kiss, turning his head to face Sirius again. “Come on. Let's get back to the room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Sirius’s declaration of a wish Remus realizes he feels the same. He wants to remember Sirius just as he is today—happy, carefree, affectionate, and hopelessly in love. Remus pushes all thoughts of what’s to come the next day way out of his mind. He has limited time left and doesn’t want to waste a second of it fretting over the inevitable. He wants to bask in Sirius’s presence, wants to burn the moments of his time with Sirius into his heart just like Sirius had his name burned into his journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What they have is something special. Timeless and unmatched by anything Remus has ever known. And even though it’s about to come to an end the very next morning, Remus refuses to let that shade his final night with who he loves more than anything, forever clouding his memories.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Despite the rapidly rising temperature, Remus tugs the cuffs of Sirius’s jacket more over his fingers as they stand on the train platform waiting for Remus’s train home to arrive. He can hear the metal wheels screeching as the train slows down the way, and if he looks hard enough he can see the engine rounding the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have your ticket?” Sirius asks him and places a discrete hand in Remus’s low back. Remus just nods his head, not wanting to speak or even risk looking at Sirius yet. “I’ll call you at the villa when I get back to my place in New York.” Remus pulls at the cuffs some more and nods his head again. Sirius slides his hand up to the back of Remus’s neck and guides him to face him, then lets Remus hide his face into his neck and completely envelopes Remus in his arms. “You’re going to be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Remus chokes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” Sirius assures and places a kiss into his curls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus sucks in a gasping breath, then whispers out, “I’m never going to forget you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m never going to forget you either.” Sirius clutches him closer and one hand starts to run up, down, and around Remus’s spine. “But we’ll stay in touch. We can write, we can call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll move on,” Remus says resolutely, and Sirius’s extended silence as the train pulls in behind them only confirms in Remus’s mind that he is right. Remus’s only response is to grasp at Sirius tighter. To hold himself more fully to him, to hug him so hard and with all of his might that the muscles in his arms, his chest, his back, and even his hands never forget what it feels like to be beside Sirius—to always remember that for one perfect far too short span of time, Sirius was his and he was Sirius’s. And If this short stretch of undeniable, all encompassing love is all Remus ever gets in his life, then for him, it will suffice to be enough. At least for this time he knew what true, unfettered love really was.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really do love you,” Sirius says as the bell chimes across the station that the train will be leaving soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’ll talk to you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus sucks in one last deep breath—his nose as close to Sirius’s skin as possible—before he breaks away enough to angle his mouth up towards Sirius’s for one more sweet kiss. When they pull apart Remus looks up at Sirius, no longer caring that he likely looks a mess, and says, “Good-bye, Remus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good-bye, Sirius,” Sirius says back to him, his voice heavy with the same emotions that Remus is already letting loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus quickly swipes at his eyes with the sleeves of Sirius’s jacket, though it’s a futile effort as the tears keep falling. Sirius looks at him softly and places a final kiss on his forehead, the train whistle blowing to signify it’s impending and all too quickly approaching departure in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus looks up at Sirius one final time and sees that Sirius is beginning to lose his own battle with his emotions. He reaches up with his hand to thumb at the moisture collecting below Sirius’s eyes then brings his thumb to his own lips to swallow Sirius’s tears—one last bit of Sirius for him to absorb and hold onto forever before he turns and steps onto the train and chooses a seat where he can keep his gaze on Sirius as he’s pulled from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus had hoped that the few hours spent on the train ride back home would've been enough to at least calm him, help him collect himself and ease back into life without Sirius Black. But the moment he sees his mother standing on the platform waiting for him with a paper cup filled with what he knows will be her homemade rich dark hot chocolate—the same she’s always made for Remus when words will not suffice for comfort—any footing he thought he had is immediately pulled out from under him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allez bébé, allons à la maison,” she says as she hands him his hot chocolate then slings her dainty arm around his waist to guide him to the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ride home in a silence that Remus is grateful for. It’s too hard to speak and far sweeter—though a bit bitter—to look upon the town, the narrow roads back to the villa, and the villa itself with the ghost of Sirius still vivid enough in Remus’s mind that he can almost pretend that he is with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Va te reposer,” his mother says quietly to him when they enter the villa through the wide front doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nods his head at her—anxious for the much needed rest she suggested—and swallows the last of his hot chocolate. She takes the cup from him and kisses both of his cheeks. “Merci,” he says finally then slowly makes his way up the stairs to what was Sirius’s bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unceremoniously drops his bag onto the floor then collapses onto the bed in much the same manner that Sirius had done all those weeks ago on his first day here. The wash of Sirius’s scent that comes over him as he hits the blanket and pillows is a baptism to his senses. He wonders how long he’ll be able to hold onto this invisible relic of his love each time he settles into these sheets. He lets himself roll around, grab the pillows and hold them close, eventually finding a soothing and makeshift imitation of what it felt like to hold and be held by Sirius in this bed and drifts off to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours later—judging by the dim sunlight shining through his window—Remus wakes to a knock on his door. He knows before opening his eyes that it will be Lyall on the other side. “You can come in, dad,” he says as he shuffles himself to sit against the headboard and tugs at the cuffs of Sirius’s jacket to cover his hands yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home,” Lyall says as he sits beside Remus on the bed. “Did Sirius get on his way alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he did,” Remus shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Though it was brief, you two had a nice relationship,” Lyall says warmly, reassuringly. Remus just shrugs again. “You’re too smart not to know how rare, how special, what you two had was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirius was the smart one,” Remus says, thinking about how Sirius was right. That this hurts more than having not experienced it had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was more than intelligent. But what you two had had everything and nothing to do with intelligence. He was good, and you were both lucky to have found each other,” Lyall pauses and pats the back of Remus’s covered hand, “because you too are good.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he was better than me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’d say the same thing about you, which flatters the two of you,” Lyall says wisely then pauses again. Remus can see him look over his shoulder with careful nonchalance. “We don’t have to speak about it, but let’s not pretend we don’t know what I’m saying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With heavy eyes and a quivering lower lip, Remus chances a glance at his father, both pleading for him to stop, yet encouraging him to go on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you least expect it, love has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot. Just remember, I am here, and your mother is here. Right now you may not want to feel anything. Perhaps you never wished to feel anything. But feel something you obviously did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus turns his gaze away from his father again and swipes at his eyes with the soft cuffs of his sleeves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a beautiful relationship. And in my place, most parents would hope the whole thing just goes away. But I am not such a parent. In your heart, if there is pain, nurse it. And if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, but to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything—what a waste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus turns to look at his father again, dumbstruck at his words and how they drove right through the heart of not just what he’s feeling, but what he’s wishing not to feel as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I spoken out of turn?” Lyall asks gently. And Remus silently shakes his head in response. “Good. Then let me say one more thing. Remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Right now there’s sorrow and pain. Don’t kill it and with it the joy you’ve felt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus lets his father’s words swirl around him, then settle into the cracks that the day has left in his heart before he finally says a simple, “Thank you,” in return.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The closing conversation in this chapter between Remus and Lyall contains some lines either direct from the original or changed slightly to fit the needs of this version.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Christmas day, five months later</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus sits by the fire in the living room, flipping through the pages of his journal and going through the notes written inside as he mulls over where he wants the concerto he’s composing to go next. His professor had suggested he go livelier with it, but Remus thinks that’s the wrong choice—Sirius deserves something more poignant than lively to signify what he meant to Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He places the journal down on his lap when the telephone on the end table beside him rings. He smiles shyly to himself as he answers it—hoping that it is Sirius on the other end for the occasional phone call they have shared since Sirius’s departure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bonjour,” he says as he brings the receiver to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus,” Sirius’s voice sighs from the other end of the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirius,” Remus sighs as well. “How are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. How are your parents?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re fine too…” he answers slowly, nervous from Sirius’s serious tone. “I miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you too. So very much,” Sirius pauses. “I have some news.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What news? You’re getting married, I suppose,” Remus says and forces a laugh meekly. He’s been waiting for a call like this, sure that Sirius would be moving on without him eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His sudden sadness is quickly abated by Sirius’s uproarious laughter on the other end of the line. “No, I’m not getting married,” he assures. “And so like you to assume the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what is it?” Remus asks, still afraid of whatever it is that Sirius might have to announce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been accepted into École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, to start this coming fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus audibly gasps. Surprised at the potential implications of this news. “You never said anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been in the works for a couple of months now. I asked your father not to say anything in case it didn’t go through. Do you mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I mind?” Remus repeats and jumps off the sofa, unable to contain himself any longer. “Of course I don’t mind, you’re coming back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming back,” he says then pauses, “to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus doesn’t get a chance to respond as his parents pick up the phone in Lyall’s office. “Sirius!!” Lyall yells into the conversation. “Is that you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you tell him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Sirius laughs. “He’s likely standing by the table in the living room in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When can we expect you?” Hope asks, and Remus drops back to his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping to come stay for the summer again—before classes resume in the fall. Though if it’s alright with Remus, I’d like to come over even earlier, stay with him in Paris as he finishes up for the term.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s alright!” Remus practically shouts over everybody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bien, bien,” Hope says happily. “We’ll let you go back to talking to Remus and work out the details later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk again soon, Sirius,” Lyall says, and then Remus hears the click of their receiver as they hang up the phone in the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really coming back, this isn’t a dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t a dream, Remus. I never should’ve left you. I should’ve stayed all along. Please forgive me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to forgive. I love you, Sirius. I haven’t stopped for even a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too. And I’ll never leave your side again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fin</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you think! We can talk all things CMBYN and Remus and Sirius in the comments!! Or come find me on tumblr if you’re over 18 @kattlupin 💛 xoxo- Katt</p></blockquote></div></div>
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